


A Broken Spoke (But the Wheel Still Turns)

by Niightmoves



Series: Broken Spoke Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural, Wincest-Fandom
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Angst, Caretaking, Dream Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Mental Breakdown, PTSD, Post Season/Series 08 Finale, Post-Apocalypse, Protective Sam Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Spoilers for S08 finale, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:46:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 85,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niightmoves/pseuds/Niightmoves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Metatron cast out the angels, then the demons tried to take over. Maybe God just decided to wipe the slate clean and start over."</p>
<p>In a broken-down world, Sam Winchester finds himself where he's always belonged, on the road with Dean. But this time, he's the one taking care of his brother, a shadow of his former self. Sam and Dean's epic love story fuels this tale of survival, hope and redemption. An exciting survival epic as well as a riveting love story, two brothers defy Heaven, Hell and everything in between to stay together and take care of the few survivors and each another in a bleak post-apocalyptic future that they'll make their own.   AU after Season 8 finale</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1- The Body

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a post apocalyptic world; there are elements such as depression, thoughts of suicide, and mention of mental illness. Also plenty of foul language, because I'm convinced that's how Winchesters talk. Sam isn't perfect here. He can be bitchy, petty, and whiny, but also brave, strong and heroic. Starts off quite dark, with a messed up Sam and a catatonic Dean, but as the story progresses, things look better for the boys. Wincest pairing.

Sam spent the morning repairing the wheel that broke when he steered the cart into a pothole. Lost in another daydream (memory?), he hadn’t noticed until it was too late, and the whole cart and contents was leaning, slipping over the side, and the lurch made him lose his balance and fall to the ground.

He scrambled painfully to the cart and laid over it, arms wide, capturing what he could and pushing it all back, lifting the cart up and out of the hole at the same time.  Only a few things had really fallen off, a bag of salt, canteens and a bedroll, but the body was okay, if tilted a bit crazily on its side, like it was caught on film in the middle of tipping over. He pushed it back into place and reinforced it with the blankets.

-Fuck, next time, a little warning? Throw up a hand or something. Stupid motherfucker.

He mumbled thanks to himself that they had a spare wheel left, because the broken one proved beyond repair, and shit if that didn’t mean he had to spend the next who knows how long, searching for spare parts. Again. That meant a detour into a town (what was left of them) to find a Home Depot or hardware store that was intact enough for him to scavenge a few more parts or even if he was lucky, a new cart. Something not too big to push, but big enough for his gear. And Dean. Well, Dean’s body.

The thought of leaving the road, though- he always got a little sick and nauseous at the idea- seeing the evidence of what was- and the knowing, knowing, they were a part of it.  Once he started thinking about it, it was hard to stop, and he let himself crumple beside the cart and draw up his knees while he rocked absently back and forth, letting the tears come.

This time, it lasted until dark. He came back to his senses under the light of a full moon, wiping the grit and dried snot from his face with his sleeve and pulling himself upright. The body was where he left it, still and silent, eyes staring blankly ahead, blinking every once in a while, but without focus. Sam thought for a moment it was like Dean was his sentinel, watching over him while he had his freakout. Then resentment washed over him and he kicked the side of the cart.

-You fucker.  Letting me do fucking _everything_ while you just sit there and ride like a goddamn princess. You fucking fuck.

He kicked the cart again and again until his foot hurt and that pissed him off even more. Can’t fucking walk with a busted foot, dammit, and he kicked the cart once more just for that. The gear on the cart rattled with each kick, and Dean’s body rocked back and forth, but the face remained impassive. Sam scowled at it and suddenly felt a little guilty when he noticed the cracked lips and dried crust around Dean’s eyes.

Where were Dean’s goggles and the kerchief he always tied over Dean’s mouth? He was losing it. He didn’t even remember the last time he’d put them on or when he’d taken them off. But now he could see how dehydrated Dean was and it was his fault, all his fault for forgetting. He probably needed water hours ago- well, of course he did, and Sam was too stupid too fucked up to notice and god- damn, how much fucking longer could he go on like this- how much more could he take , caring for this empty shell, this vacant meat suit, automaton- this thing that used to be Dean?

 

He poked around the blankets surrounding Dean and came up with the goggles and kerchief, and wetting the kerchief with the canteen, Sam wiped away the crusty grit from Dean’s eyes with gentleness, his resentment warring with his need to nurture this thing Dean had become.

-Look at you, Dean.  You aren’t even here. Can’t even feel this, can you?

He rapped his knuckles gently on Dean’s forehead.  No one’s home. Just that blank stare, looking at nothing, eyes open but not responding. If he had any manners at all he’d just go ahead and die already, Sam thought,  so they could rest. Because as soon as Dean went, Sam could put a bullet in his brain and end this. Finally end this.

But no. Dean held on. Held onto life with some amazing –strength?- will to survive? His mind was empty, but the  shell just kept chugging along, eating and drinking and making piss and shit for Sam to clean up, day after day after day until he lost count of what day it was, what month, what year- and now it was just an endless routine- following the road, just like they always did.

Sometimes to break up the routine, Sam would pretend that Dean was still in there. Once, during one of his scavenger hunts, he’d found a pair of giant sunglasses and a paper party hat with “Princess” in pink glitter across the front.  He got drunk that night, laughing hysterically at Dean’s body, his vacant eyes mercifully hidden behind the big glasses, the hat perched on his head. Sam heckled him for hours and pelted him with empty shells from stale peanuts he’d found until the belly laughs dissolved into gut wrenching  sobs, and he cried and screamed at Dean, slapping the stupid princess hat from his head and wrapping his arms around him and holding too tight, he knew, but let his salty tears wash down Dean’s neck.

The moonlight was bright enough that he could save the juice in his light, so he finished wiping Dean off, and gave him some water, catching the dribbles with the kerchief and used it to wash his own face a little before leaning Dean back to sleep in that semi-reclined position that was easiest to do, and setting out his own bedroll. Tomorrow he’d start for a town, he thought to himself. Another day. One more. He could handle one more day, probably.

 

.... 

 

He pulled the cart along behind him, leaving the cracked blacktop of the interstate for the sweeping curve of an exit ramp to what was once a busy intersection of a busy town. Now it was still as death and rusting hulks of cars lay like rotting carcasses of another age. He didn’t look into the cars, but knew what would be inside, dessicated remains, mostly, the decomp and putrefaction having long since turned the bodies to bone and dust. He absently noted to himself  just how long they must have been on the road for things to decay this much. It didn’t matter, though. He’d stopped marking time long ago.

Thank fuck most of the big box stores were on the edges of town,  so Sam was able to avoid venturing in too far. This proved to be true for this place. Just a mile from the interstate he found Home Depot and a Walmart, so things were looking up as far as that went. He could stock up on spare parts, food and water and shit he didn’t want to think about, like diapers.  Maybe if he could hold back the horror, he could stay for a few days in the relative comfort of the Walmart, with clean bedding and plenty of canned goods, but no- he knew it couldn’t do it, could never manage it no matter how many times he’d tried. He was always on edge until he could get the hell out of there and back to the relative peace of the empty road.

He parked the cart outside the Home Depot, under the shaded overhang.  Sam grabbed a shovel from an outside display- Learn How to Lay A Patio- This Saturday – 9 -11! – and smashed the glass on the sliding doors.

-Hey, Dean- don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a few.

Dean just stared back at him. Or maybe he didn’t. It was hard to tell, since he still had on the stupid road goggles and the dumb hat that Sam put on him to keep him from getting burned.

The interior of the store was relatively unscathed, with few hints of the panic that had sent crowds of people rushing in during the last days, looking for supplies. A few overturned displays and a couple of bodies, mummified on the floor here and there- no biggie. It was easy to get in, find his shit and get out before the walls started closing in.

Sam pushed the over loaded cart to the Walmart and did the same, coming out with a buggy full of goods, pushing it over to the shady place he’d left Dean and the cart. Sam threw himself onto the dusty ground, getting his breath under control and letting his hands stop shaking.

-Christ, that was a bitch. You’re lucky you just get to sit there, man. Anyway, got some good stuff, and some clean clothes.

He talked to Dean as if there was someone listening. It was stupid, he knew, but damn, if he didn’t he was gonna go crazy. Crazier. He was already crazy, he knew that. Had to be crazy, to still be carrying on like this. Keep calm and carry on. Uh-huh, yeah. He was carrying on. No idea why, really. Now if he could keep calm, that’d be great. Keep calm… god, he wanted to kill the fucker that thought that up.

-Let’s get you something to eat, kay? I’m fucking starving. You thirsty? I got some apple juice.

He opened the can and put it to Dean’s lips, still surprised how Dean’s body knew how to do things like eat and drink. When the juice hit Dean’s lips, the body went into drink mode and swallowed and swallowed until Sam took the can away. He thought Dean would drink a gallon if he had the patience to hold a bottle there long enough. This time, though, something different happened. As Sam lowered the can, Dean’s lips smacked together.  It made Sam start, and peer closely into Dean’s eyes, looking for something, anything. The moment drug out, and nothing was happening. Sam shook his head.

-You fucking with me? Im just crazier than I thought, right?

He put the juice back to Dean’s mouth and watched him swallow more. Taking the can away, he waited for Dean to do something, but there he was, same as always, like a fucking mannequin.

-S’okay, Dean. Someday you’ll be a real boy.

He wiped off Dean’s chin and dug around in the cart.

-Aha! Check it out, man- apple pie! Just for you, dude.

It was canned pie filling. Sam wasn’t sure of the present  date, so who knows if it was past the expiration date, but it looked and smelled okay. They’d eaten a hell of a lot of stuff that was dicey in the last few months (years- decades?) and Sam was getting lazier about these things instead of more diligent. Part of him maybe wanted them to get sick and die, just so this could be over, but for reasons unknown, they were still alive.

Sam fed him the pie filling and started reminiscing about all the diners with the best pie. He kept up the patter while spooning the stuff into Dean and wiping his mouth with the spoon (like a baby, Dean) and washed it all down with more of the juice. Not very nutritious, he thought, but fuck it, the world was over and who the fuck cared anymore about eating healthy and living longer? He just wanted to be able to maintain. One more fucking day, God, you bastard. One more fucking day at a time.

He cussed God repeatedly and vehemently while cleaning up Dean’s body. Sam pulled him up till he was standing, stripped him and changed his clothes and washed him a little. He always felt like crying when he slipped on an adult diaper, thinking how Dean would be so goddamn humiliated to know he was reduced to this. Sometimes he could get him up and take out his dick and he’d pee like a man, and Sam would tell him how good he was doing and oh, man, you’re doing so much better, but he knew it was a lie. This was just an empty shell on autopilot.

Later that afternoon, after cleaning the guns for a threat that never came, Sam repacked all their gear with the new bedding, clothes, food and supplies. This time he made sure to outfit Dean in hat and goggles, and slathered him in sunscreen.

-C’mon bitch, time to hit the road. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.

He started pulling the cart up the long, twisty ramp up to the interstate.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2- Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean stop for the night. Sam gets drunk, gets mean and hits Dean; talks to a dead Bobby and is faced with his desires for his brother. Sam realizes how much he misses being touched. The beginnings of wincest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some wincest and non-con. The non-con is not meant in any hurtful way, but it is nonconsensual, so- the warning. Also, domestic violence (Sam hits Dean repeatedly) and incest feelings.  
> Sam is messed up, here. He's the same old Sam, just broken by years in the wilderness caring for an incapacitated Dean who requires total care.

 

The dried and dusty landscape stretched out before them under an endless blue sky. In times past, this would have been cropland, corn maybe, Sam thought to himself. Now it was as barren as the moon without anyone left to plant and irrigate. Heat radiated off the ribbon of road before him like a mirage, and Sam again cursed the loss of the Impala.

Instead, he was pushing a wide, wheeled cart down the road piled high with everything they had in the world, and in the middle of it sat Dean. Sam could see the sweat stains under Deans armpits and down his back and thank god he didn’t really feel anything because this heat was fucking _hot,_ dammit.

-Hey, how about we switch off and you take a turn? 

He alternated between pushing the cart and pulling it. In this heat it was exhausting either way, and when a lone scraggly tree appeared in the distance, he made up his mind to stop there.  Funny though, as soon as he decided that, the cart seemed even heavier and harder to manage.

-Seriously dude, I don’t know why I even do this, dragging your ass around. You should thank me. Treating you like a king, bro.

When they got to the tree, there was little enough shade under its sad branches, but even the dappled sunlight was better than before. Sam maneuvered Dean until he was sitting on the edge of the cart. He took off his goggles and hat and gave him a drink.

-I don’t know how much longer we’re gonna be in this area, Dean. S’pretty flat. Dried up. I think maybe we go west, what d’ya think? I need to see some trees, because this sucks.

He held the canteen to Dean’s lips and absently looked around.

-I think maybe we stay here for the night and start up early before it gets too hot, huh?

He turned his head back to Dean, noticing the water was now running down his face and neck. Dean’s mouth was closed. What the hell? Sam jerked the canteen away. Dean sat there, like always. Not moving. Like always. Instantly, Sam felt his blood boil.

-You motherfucker! Goddamn it, what the hell are you doing, wasting the water like that? You stupid shit! God dammit- look what the fuck you did. Fuck you, I’m not cleaning that up. You can just sit there wet.

He stomped over to his bedroll and sat down, then thought better of it and went over to his duffle, rooted around and pulled out a bottle. One thing I never forget, Sam thought, is to stock up on plenty of liquor.

Times like this he needed a damn drink. When that empty motherfucker just made his life hell. Idiot. He sat on the bedroll and took a pull on the bottle, feeling the searing heat down his throat and welcomed it. Staring at Dean sitting there like a ridiculous wind-up toy on the edge of that cart, he just felt himself getting madder and madder. Sam had never been a mean drunk, but times change things and boy, times sure have changed, haven’t they?

-Why the fuck am I taking care of you, Dean? Is this my punishment, huh? ‘Cause I couldn’t close the gates of hell, so God, that motherfucker, is gonna make me spend eternity hauling your carcass around, and feeding you and wiping your ass? Cause I’m pretty much sick of it, Dean.  I tried Dean! I was ready to do it. You stopped me. You told me not to. _You_ did that.

He kicked his foot, dug his heel into the ground for emphasis.

-I _never_ would have stopped if I knew this was gonna happen. Never. After everything we did, the world ended anyway? You should a never stopped me, Dean.

He felt like crying. He swallowed more of the whiskey. It went down smoother now, and Sam could feel himself getting fuzzy. He should get up and do something with Dean – with that Dean-thing over there – but damn, there was no motivation in him beyond the desire to get blind eye drunk and the rest of it could go to hell.

He got up and leaned over Dean. Right into his personal space. It didn’t matter now, there was no person there anymore, right? Right up close and personal, Sam looked into the unfocused stare of his brother. Maybe Dean had already left. Maybe he was in Heaven with Dad and Mom and the rest of their friends and family, leaving Sam down here to fend for himself and this obscene parody of Dean Winchester. 

That makes sense, he thought, drunk now.  Leave me here- punish me – by making me take care of this- thing. For how long? Eternity? He was scared that might be true. Maybe this was Hell.

-I know it’s a set-up, he whispered against Dean’s ear. Y’know why?

He swallowed more. The bottle was nearly empty. He leaned over Dean, grabbing his wet shirt front, pulling him up. Shaking him.

-Look around, Dean. Where are the ghosts? The demons? The angels? Hell- where’s _anything_ supernatural? Huh? Did’ja ever wonder how come _we’re_ the only people? Cuz don’t think I haven’t noticed.

Nothing. Dean’s slack face and unfocused stare seemed to mock him, Sam thought.  Sam reached back and swung, hitting Dean in the face with his fist. He swung again and rocked Deans head back again. You don’t even try to stop me, Sam thought, you’re not even real. He hit Dean again, a hard one, and ended by shaking him savagely before throwing him back onto the cart. He looked at his fist and saw his bloody knuckles and dimly wondered if this was the end. Maybe they could end it now?

His anger dissipated as quickly as it came, replaced by the crushing guilt like always. If he was a good brother, he wouldn’t lose his shit like that. God, he’d never hit Dean, who’s as defenseless as a damn baby- Christ, what the fuck is wrong with him? He knows he’s not a good person. Knows this like he knows his own name.

Breathing heavily, Sam checks Dean’s mouth for any loose teeth or cuts and wipes his bloody nose. Sorry, sorry Dean oh god I’m so sorry no oh god I’m sorry. He croons soft words of comfort as he cleans his brother and hates himself even more.

-You know, it’s okay that you’re feeling angry, Sam.

He startled so hard his legs nearly buckled, but he spun around, nearly choking at the wonder of hearing that voice.

-Bobby?

He found his footing, but the booze made him feel he was just one beat behind the rest of time. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

-It’s impossible. You’re dead, Bobby.

Impossible yeah, but there he was, rumpled as ever, wearing that filthy blue cap and standing there just as nonchalant as could be. For a dead person.

-it’s me, boy. You don’t believe your eyes?

Sam backed up to the cart and pulled his gun from its hiding place.

-No offense, Bobby, but I’ve dealt with some weird shit lately.

Bobby chuckled and rocked on his heels.

-No shit, Sherlock. Weird as in the end of the world, I take it?

Sam was drunk, yeah, but this was the first time he’d taken to hallucinating. Bobby just appeared – out of nowhere? So okay, he wasn’t gonna believe his eyes, alright?

-What are you doing here, Bobby? I got you out of Hell. Me and Dean released you into Heaven- You can’t be real-

Bobby shrugged.

-What’s _real_ anyway?

-what d’ya want, Bobby?

-Nothin’ bad. Just seemed like you could use someone to talk to, is all.

Holy hell, now he knew he was losing his shit. Talking to imaginary people on the side of the road, yes, he was definitely on the on the crazy train. Weirdly, it felt pretty damn good to see Bobby, even if he was just conjured out of his insanity.

-I hit Dean, Bobby. Beat him up. I- I didn’t want to stop…

Bobby moved to lean on the cart. He pulled his flask from his hip. Now Sam was sure this was his brain making up shit because they burned the damned thing, that he knew.

-Sam, you’ve been through a lot. It’s understandable that you’d be angry and resentful. You’re caring for yourself and another person who’s not able to do anything. I think you get a pass for getting mad every once in a while.

Sam thought this sounded rational and thoughtful. He still wanted to believe this was Bobby. He moved to hug him, but met only air. That hurt more than he thought it would.

-You aren’t real. I knew it.

Bobby leaned in to capture Sam’s eyes.

-Son, whether I’m real or not, it never hurts to have someone else to talk to. Hear me, boy?

-Yeah, I hear you, Bobby.

-One thing you cannot be doing is taking it out on your brother.

Count on even fake-Bobby to call him out on that. Sam felt like shit.

-I know, Bobby. I don’t want to. I’d never want to hurt him – god- But it’s hard, man. So fucking hard- and it’s been a long time. I don’t know if I can do all this anymore.

-I know, son. Maybe you need to ask yourself just why you keep on doing all this in the first place.

Sam drew a blank.  There was no question of why he did it. He just _did_. He looked down at Dean who had his eyes closed now, with blood on his swollen lip and a bruise on his cheek and Sam searched for a reason.  This burden was something he did automatically, as naturally as breathing.  Looking up, Bobby was gone.

Being drunk made it that much harder to get their campsite ready for the night, and Sam pretty much gave up on it, electing to stick to bedrolls on the ground and that was it. Getting Dean from the cart to the ground was easy enough, and Sam was elated because he’d even gotten Dean to take a pee first.

…

Looking up at the blanket of stars above them, Sam could almost pretend for a moment that this wasn’t his life. Once, they’d gone camping, just him and Dean, and they lay like this, telling stories and talking about trivial shit until they fell asleep. It was a great memory. Sam reached out and grasped Dean’s hand, kneading the fingers.

-I’m sorry I hit you, Dean. I promise I’ll never do that again. I’m an asshole, I know it.

He laid awake for awhile, feeling like crap about Dean and suddenly missing Dean and everything- god, everything- so much. Missed the feeling of having someone to talk to, even if it was just his crazy mind doing it. Missed having someone to touch. No one had touched him in so long. Years without a look, a hug, a touch, a punch.  Touch deprivation.

At this point, even a punch would be nice. God, I am insane, he smiled to himself.  He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to imagine it was someone touching him. Miss this so much, he thought. Something unfamiliar curled deep in his belly and he recognized it distantly as desire. Is it even possible, he wondered? The more he wondered about it, the more it grew until he felt the need rise up in him, strange and exotic. In wonder, he looked over, and the memories of Dean being Dean in all his glory threatened to overwhelm him.

Even bruised and battered by the sun and wind, the beauty in his brother’s face hadn’t dimmed. His eyelashes just as full, his lips just as lush. He looked, for all intents and purposes, like he was just sleeping, and Sam wanted- oh god, he wanted to reach over and touch him. Of course it would be wrong, but he wanted to, and it was a struggle not to. He loosened his pants to relieve the aching he felt and began stroking himself.

He wouldn’t touch Dean, but he couldn’t not look. He caressed him with his eyes, his well formed nose, the sweep of his brows, his firm jaw, his mouth. That bruised and swollen mouth and those lips that were making his breath hitch.  His need was so strong, and Dean was his now, his to take care of and his forever. He focused on Dean’s lips and wanted to put his mouth on him. Imagined kissing him, opening his mouth with his tongue and Dean kissing him back, wanting it just as much as he did.

-Oh god, Dean-

He rocked into his fist, too rough and abrasive, but unable to stop because it had been so damned long and there was Dean, his brother, his life.  He felt his orgasm building and it was harder to keep his hands and mouth to himself. He was beyond reason. His thin veil of morality was nearly torn away and Sam knew he shouldn’t have these feelings about his brother but he didn’t care, just knew he wanted him. Wanted the old Dean, wanted to kiss him, touch him. They were the only two people left in the world and one of them was badly broken- and Sam felt his resolve slipping. He talked as if Dean could hear him.

-Jesus, Dean – want you so much. Oh god, need you –

He had the blankets pulled down now and he’d lowered his pants, freeing his cock and stroking it, rubbing his other hand across his belly, pretending it was Dean doing it. He was turned on knowing he was laying here with his naked cock next to Dean, touching himself. His eyes never left Dean’s face.  He moved closer until his forehead was touching Dean’s. It should feel more wrong, he thought.

He closed his eyes. He could feel Dean’s breath on him and began to feel the familiar tingling in his balls as his orgasm was imminent.

He rolled onto his back and grabbed one of Dean’s hands and placed it on his cock, moving it up and down. He begged unashamedly.

-Please touch me, Dean, please touch me. Oh god, please. I need you to-

Sam came, massively and almost painfully, crying out Dean’s name and spilling over his and Dean’s hand in hot, thick pulses. He stroked his way through his orgasm, and the pleasure soon turned to self loathing when he realized he was still clutching Dean’s sticky hand against his cock.

-Jesus, Dean. Fuck. I’m an asshole.

He lay there, feeling like a sick, perverted shit heel.  H e just used his incapacitated brother to get off with. What the hell kind of man was he, he wondered.  He felt bad because he loved it so much. It felt so damn good and he wondered if he would do it again. No, of course he wouldn’t. He wanted to, but he wouldn’t. So great. He was crazy; and he was a pervert. Just fucking great.

Sam wiped his hand and Dean’s off on his shirt. He pulled up his pants and fixed the blankets, making sure Dean was all tucked in. Sam moved closer and reached over to pat him softly before he closed his eyes. Maybe he’d be less of a creep in the morning.

In the dark, Dean’s eyes reflected the moonlight. He laid still, his eyes focused intently on his sleeping brother.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3- Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam dreams of Dean and the Impala and learns that his journey is just beginning. Meanwhile, Dean begins to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of wincest, but no explicit sex in this chapter. Overall, this is an uplifting and angst free chapter. The boys have along road ahead, with plenty of ups and downs.If you've stuck with me this far, thank you! Please leave a comment if you can. I appreciate all your thoughts.

 

They were riding in the Impala, Zeppelin blasting, and the windows were down, making Sam’s hair blow in his face. The sun was hot on his side of the car and he woke a little sweaty. Sam looked over as Dean fiddled with the volume control.

-Wakey wakey, Sammy.

Sam rubbed his eyes and sat up.

-Man, I had the worst dream.

Dean glanced over, one eyebrow raised in that way of his.

-I dreamt it was the end of the world, and we were traveling. Just you and me, and I had to take care of you.

-Not a dream, Sammy.

He was confused. Looked out the window at the passing scenery, a cornfield, a pasture, a few cows.

-What-?

-You weren’t dreaming. It’s real. The world is over. Well, most of it, anyway.

Dean shifted in his seat.  Sam wondered if he was dreaming or if he was just crazy again.

-Yeah, you are. Dreaming. This is the dream. And no, you’re not crazy. Okay, a little crazy, but who wouldn’t be a little soft in the melon after being witness to the end of world.

Sam sat back and turned to the window, watching the world pass. He should be freaked out, he supposed, but he was calm and relaxed. He sighed and ran his hand over the seat.

-Man, I miss this car.

Dean smiled indulgently and nodded.

-‘Course you do. Nothing like her, right, Baby?

Sam turned to Dean, seeing him like he had a thousand times before, settled in his seat, practically one with the car. He just watched for a little while.

-Everything’s so fucked up, Dean.

-Yeah.

-I don’t even remember most of what happened. When I try, it’s all messed up.

-It was Metatron, dude. He cast out the angels. Then the demons tried to take over. Maybe God just decided to wipe the slate clean and start over. You and me, we made it, though.

Sam huffed out a laugh.

-Yeah, if you can call it that. You’re practically a vegetable and I’m crazy. We are so screwed.

-Hey, don’t give up on us yet. You’re doing a great job. I’m proud of you. My little brother, always got my back, right?

Right, thought Sam, except for the part where he was having skeevy thoughts about his brother.

-That what’s bothering you? The world ends, you’re trying to keep us both alive and you’re angsting about a little brotherly love? Don’t sweat it. I don’t.

-Dean..

-Things change, Sammy. You take love where you can get it, and if all that’s left is me and you, then you’re gonna turn to who you got left. Honestly? You can’t tell me it hasn’t been a long time coming, and I’m not talking about after the end times. Besides, can’t say as I blame you wanting this sweet ass. Now can we stop talking about this before I start growing a vagina?

Sam laughed a little and leaned back, stretching his legs.

-Jesus, even in my dreams, you’re still the same jerk.

Dean grabbed a crumpled napkin and threw it at him.

-Bitch.

They rode in easy silence for a while. Sam put in AC/DC and turned up the music, letting his mind wander. The landscape changed from rolling farmland to foothills and Sam could see mountains in the distance.

-Now I gotta tell you something, Sam, and this is important.

-Okay.

-You need to quit wandering around in circles. It’s been awhile and now you need to find who’s left.

-What do you mean? We’re the only people left.

-Uh-uh. It’s been long enough. The croatoan virus has pretty much disappeared and you need to go to Colorado. That’s where you’ll find ‘em. We’ll be safe there.

-I don’t understand. Dean…

-Get some gear, get a car. Go to Colorado.

Sam shook his head. A car? He didn’t think he could do it.

-Yes, you can.  Look for a car, maybe at a car lot. Get provisions and a map and all that shit. Damn it, Sam, I know you can do it. I need you to do it. For both our sakes. Walking is gonna take too long. I’m waking up and I need you to do this for me, alright?

-Okay, Dean, okay. I’ll do it.

Dean smiled and nodded.

-That’s m’boy.

-Hey, Dean?

-Yeah?

-I really miss you- and , I love you. So much.

Dean grinned. He reached over and carded his fingers through Sam’s hair like he did when he was just a kid.

-Aw, Samantha. Such a princess. Don’t worry. I’m coming back. You’ll see. Now, it’s time to get up. I said  get up, Sam!

…

Sam opened his eyes, his head pounding and mouth dry as cotton and tasting bad. Remnants of a dream prickled at his consciousness, half forgotten already. He was riding in the car with Dean, like they did in the old days. A nice dream. Not a nightmare, for once.

 He groaned and rolled over, checking to see if Dean was still breathing.

Propped on one elbow, he laid his hand against Dean’s carotid, checking his pulse, then leaned over, ear to chest, making sure his lungs were clear. Dean lay still; breath strong and regular, eyes open and unfocused, as usual.  Taking a moment, Sam looked at him, then grunted and rose. So much to do every morning before they could even think about going anywhere.

He was brushing his teeth with a new toothbrush he’d picked up in the Walmart and relished the feeling of clean breath and smooth teeth. Not that it really made a difference, but if he was going lights out anytime soon, it was going to be with clean teeth. Washing  was a little water sloshed over a cloth and rubbed on the stinkiest parts. Whore’s bath, Dean called it when they were kids, which Sam always thought was disgusting and pure Dean.

He finished up and turned his attention to Dean.  He’d long ago gotten over the squeamishness of dealing with a grown man in diapers. When he found Dean, he was like this; unresponsive, catatonic, and incontinent. Just an empty shell with enough brain activity to keep the heart pumping, and other organs functioning. He could sit and stand where he was put and eat and drink when prompted, but that was it.  For a long, long time he’d been like this. Sam didn’t know how long. Time was immaterial. Even if he wanted to, when he tried too hard to think about it, his head hurt. A couple years at least, he guessed. Long enough that abandoned cars were rusting and vegetation was growing in the middle of the streets.

He had Dean up and was stripping him for a little morning wash. He got out the scissors and trimmed his beard closely. Dean always liked to be clean shaven and he missed seeing him that way, but this was the best he could do. At least he could keep his hair as short as he always did. He hummed AC/DC absently to himself. Mornings were generally good, before the horror of the world pressed down on him and he was lost in pain and depression.

He went  to change the diaper, noting it was dry.

-You didn’t go. How come you didn’t go?

This was unusual. Dean was like a baby, peeing all night and waking up with wet pants.  Sam had no way to treat a bladder or kidney infection, shit.

-Let’s try going like a big guy, ‘kay?

He positioned himself next to Dean and impersonally took hold of his penis.

-Aright, Dean, let ‘er rip.

Nothing.

-Come on, dude, I know there’s some in there. Piss already.

A dribble started, then a stream as Dean peed, wetting the ground and splashing some on Sam’s ankles.

-Gross, man. Good job, though. You did it. I’m proud—

His words dried up in mid sentence. He couldn’t believe it. Was it real? Another hallucination?

Dean was looking at him.

Dean was looking. Really _seeing_. No, he didn’t have an expression, but Sam knew he was looking. His eyes were focused and intent on Sam’s, and tracked his when he moved his head right, left, up, down.

-Holy shit, Dean. You in there?  He whispered.

Dean’s eyes drifted down to where Sam was still holding his penis. Sam let go like he’d been shocked.

-Dean. Dean, look at me. You know me? It’s me, Sam. Remember? Sammy?

There was no response and the focus in Dean’s eyes faded, returning to the blank stare that was so familiar.  Sam shook him and yelled, but no matter how loud he was, nothing was penetrating the layer of nothing that surrounded Dean.

Disgusted, Sam parked Dean on the edge of the cart and got himself a PopTart, munching and staring at Dean, thinking.

Packing up and dressing Dean was easy enough today. He opened a can of SpaghettiOs. He thought it was a favorite of Dean’s when they were kids, but it hurt trying to remember. Anyway, he ate them now, all the time, like it or not.

Feeding Dean, he watched his eyes intently for something; anything that looked like someone was home. There was nothing, but the opening and closing of his mouth, swallowing automatically like the robot Sam was used to. Sam barked a laugh devoid of humor.

-Just messing with me again, aren’t you, bro?

He scraped the bottom of the can and spooned the last bite into Dean and there it was, a spark in his eyes. Dean was looking at him again.

-Dean? _Dean._ Hey ,man, it’s me.

Gently, he reached up and laid his hand on Dean’s cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth. Dean just looked at him and Sam felt a bubble of happiness swell inside him and his eyes filled. 

-Oh my god, Dean, this is so good. Jesus, I can’t believe it.

His breath hitched and he couldn’t hold back.

Dean kept looking at him as the tears ran down Sam’s face. Kept looking while Sam placed his hands on either side of his face and stroked, bringing their foreheads together and whispered endearments, nonsensical and loving. You’re in there, he thought, overjoyed.

They were like that a long time.  Sam didn’t want to move away, afraid this was another mirage, a hallucination of his crazy mind. Maybe it was God fucking with him, making him think Dean was really here, instead of the empty vessel he’d been traveling with.

He moved out of Dean’s line of sight and back in, looking for the spark of intelligence, and yeah, there it was. Finally, convinced it wasn’t a trick of his imagination, Sam finished packing and loaded Dean up in the cart and moved them down the road.

…

He was exhausted from pulling the cart, thinking maybe he should try a car, but the first few times, it was impossible, his anxiety leading to a major meltdown, and he resigned himself to the cart. Speed had never mattered. They had no place to go and no time to be there. He didn’t even know why he did it, or why he didn’t stop somewhere and find a house they could stay in. Maybe it was something ingrained in him, that the road was safety and comfort. God knows, he never felt right until he had them back on the road, cart and all.

But now Dean was here. He was here- awake and alive. Okay, not responsive, but baby steps, Sam, baby steps, he reminded himself.

…

They stopped in a grove of trees at dusk. Light enough to set up camp and get settled for the night. In the back of his mind, what he didn’t want to think about, was the night before, when he jerked off against Dean and cried out his name when he came. God, he was a sick fucker, but even as he thought it, he couldn’t help but look at Dean, wanting to be close to him, touch him again. Now that Dean was awake, there was no way he was going to touch him. Not that he ever should have in the first place.

He got Dean up off the cart and checked him again, still dry- and helped him pee. Something so simple – Dean taking a piss- made him ridiculously happy and he couldn’t stop patting his arm and grinning.

-I’m hungry, dude. You hungry?

Dean looked at him, aware but no response. Sam dug out a can of spinach and opened it. He tilted the can back and drank the bitter juice. Waste not, want not, right Dean?  He settled next to his brother and forked out a mouthful.

-Okay, open.

Dean opened his mouth like a bird and let Sam shove it in. He chewed two or three times and stopped. Sam waited until he swallowed, fork at the ready.

-Open up, Dean. Next bite.

Dean sat there, looking at him, lips closed. Sam poked the fork a few times against his lips and finally gave up.

-Come on, you not hungry?

He held up the fork again. Nothing.

Sam’s eyebrows crinkled in thought as he ate the spinach.

-You don’t like spinach?

Dean just looked at him.

-Want something else? Corned beef?

He pulled out a can of corned beef hash. Something nasty and greasy back in the old days, now the taste of fatty meat and potatoes made his mouth water. Funny how things change.

He held up a forkful in front of Dean and managed to push a little into his mouth.  Dean chewed and maybe Sam imagined it, but his eyes grew brighter, he was sure of it, and Dean opened for the next bite and the next, until the can was empty. Sam laughed as he tossed the can as far as he could.

-Okay, duly noted. Dean does not like spinach!

They settled back on duffles and packs, a campfire crackling more for emotional comfort than warmth, and Sam cracked open a pint of rum.

-Gonna celebrate, Dean. My god, I just can’t believe it. You’re back. I know you’re in there- I can see it.

He grinned and something unlocked and loosened in his chest and he felt a little like crying. After everything, he still had Dean. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t end the day thinking about blowing his brains out.

Sam pulled Dean next to him and settled an arm across his shoulders. Damn, but he’d gotten so skinny. Had to fatten him up. Maybe another scavenger hunt and see what goodies he could get that Dean would like.

Sam got a little drunk, and knew he was nuzzling Dean probably too much but hell, he was happy and goddamn, Dean was _here_ and awake. He couldn’t stop smiling at him and Christ, just looking at him. He petted Dean and turned his face and stared into his eyes. Maybe the world was over, but it was okay. Everything was gonna be okay now.

The last thought before he slept was –We should go to Colorado.

…

 


	4. Chapter 4- Dead Deer & Twinkies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is becoming more aware each day. Sam tells a funny story about an old hunt, has a bit of a breakdown and they come upon a massive traffic jam on the interstate. Sam can't stop thinking about Dean, and not in a brotherly way. Wincest, masturbation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my readers! I hope you're enjoying this so far. Without giving too much away, the next chapters will deal with Dean waking up, Sam driving and a lot more sex ;)

Ch 4 Dead Deer & Twinkies

The day broke cold and damp. Sam woke up stiff and sore, his arms wrapped around Dean. The fire had burned down to nothing but white ash and everything was covered with a layer of dew.

Sam reached over, checking to see if Dean was still breathing. He was. Heart rate steady, lungs clear. Still asleep, or at least, eyes closed.

He groaned and rose, twisting the kink from his back. Sam stirred the embers with a stick and found a few glowing coals and blew them into life with a handful of lichen and a bit of moss. It didn’t take long before the fire was decent and putting out some heat. He warmed his hands for a few minutes .

There was Dean. Sleeping the sleep of the innocent - or the insane- whichever you’d prefer. Sam preferred innocent, because if Dean was insane that made them just two crazy people and he didn’t want to think about that.  So, there he was. Looking for all like a kid on a camping trip. Sam couldn’t get over how normal he looked. Like any minute he’d turn over and say, _Good morning, Sammy_ , or- _Need my coffee, Sam_ , or-  _Fuck you, asshat._

He crouched by the fire, warming his hands and looked at his brother. Like the other night, he felt the pull of desire and his untended morning wood was begging for attention. This is just so wrong, he thought- but damn- he didn’t stop looking.  He hadn’t had the desire or need to get his rocks off for months- no, _years_ \- and yet here he was, a painfully hard woody for the second time in as many days. He tried not to analyze it too much.

He tried to will it away, which did nothing.  Then went so far as thump himself on the dick, which was a bit painful, but just made him harder. Shit. _I’m such a freak,_ he thought with frustration.

Sam went past the cart, into the trees, behind Dean. He could see him, but was still hidden from view. _Jesus god, this needs to be taken care of now,_ he groaned. Before he could second guess himself, he opened his jeans and took himself in hand, stroking gently. Trying to think about girls-- titties, asses,  girl on girl, guy on guy, but fuuuck- his eyes kept flitting up to look at Dean. It was stupid, because Dean was laying there, all covered up and only the top of his head was visible, really-- but apparently that was enough- because once he allowed himself to look, his cock got rock hard. He used poor-man’s lube, spit in his hand, and stroked himself efficiently. The vision in his head was Dean’s mouth and he burst out _oh god, Dean_ as he came.

He milked the last couple of drops and got his breathing under control while he put himself together and walked back to where Dean was sleeping.

 _Shit_. He was laying there, looking at him.

Sam’s face colored. He wondered how much Dean heard, or if he even understood what Sam had been doing.

-Hey. So listen. So, I’ve been thinking, and I think... you know... we should go to Colorado. Y’know....

He knew he was babbling.

-Anyway. Colorado. We should go. I know it’s a long way and all, but I think... I could get a car, maybe-- or an SUV, make our trip a lot smoother, huh?

He was sitting Dean up so he could get some of the fire’s meager heat.

-I tried the whole car thing before and-- I know, it was too hard, too much. But I think I wanna try it again, alright?  Maybe this time, get a new car at a dealership or something- You know, some of that ‘new car smell’?

It was a running joke with them. Ever since Dean came back from the convenience store with a six pack and a little cardboard tree printed with the words, New Car Smell. They’d laughed at it every time they saw it and hung it off the Impala’s rear view. It stunk like shit and wasn’t long before they tossed it, but whenever they smelled something really bad; the stench of a wendigo or something half-rotted and maggot riddled, Dean would pop out; Mmm, Love that new car smell!

Dean looked at him. His eyes might have been crinkled a little in humor. They sure looked that way to Sam and he chuffed a laugh.

-Hey Dean-- remember that time we were in Florida? Hunting that skunk ape? Only it wasn’t really a skunk ape but just a black bear that was getting in people’s garbage in the night and shit? And it chased us through the woods and you stepped in that dead deer?

The deer was bloated from the heat.  Dead from who knows what- a poacher out of season, maybe. It was the boonies after all and those locals didn’t give two shits about legality, but for whatever reason, it lay there, near to bursting. Full and ripe.

Sam was laughing now, lost in his story. The words came out between his laughter.

-And we were running with that fucker hot on our tail-- Jesus, bears are fast- and you- and you stepped right in that deer -and it just fucking- _exploded?_ Like a goddamn gory piñata- it fucking exploded all over you-

He rocked back on his heels, wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes.

-And you- And you turned around, all covered in dead deer guts and just- fucking _shot_ that bear right between the eyes because it was almost on me. It almost had me, man. I was just standing there, looking at you with that rotting deer shit all over you and that bear- he woulda had me, man, he woulda had me.  But you killed it-

He caught his breath. Dean was staring intently at him. Definite crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

-And the best part of the story, right? Is you standing there, all covered in nasty ass blood and maggots and a stinking dead bear at your feet and you- you-- all you can say is, Love that new car smell, Sammy!  

He laughed and laughed and the laughter turned sharp and more of a bark  or a sob and goddamn it, he was crying- crying now like a fucking baby, Jesus. Crying and sobbing like his heart was broken. Like nothing would ever be good again because it wouldn’t- damn it. It wouldn’t ever be better because they’d done it-- they helped to break the fucking world – him and Dean and the goddamn angels and Cas and the demons.

He cried until he was spent. Wracking sobs turned to uneven breaths and finally, just breathing, in and out, while he hid his face in the crook of his arm. He kept his head down, willing himself to get over it. Put it away in the box and lock it down and press on. Just get through today, goddamn- just today, God. Please.

He raised his head and looked at Dean, who was looking at him with sad, wet eyes.

-S’okay, Dean. Gonna be okay- Promise.

He sighed deeply. Ran his hand over his face and wiped his eyes again. Looked around and pulled himself upright.

-Let’s get this show on the road. We’ve got a lot to do today.

…

A few miles down the road, Sam pulling the cart and Dean riding, as usual, decked out in road goggles and hat. They came upon a huge traffic jam.

It wasn’t apparent what caused the pileup of cars- maybe an accident or someone up ahead ran out of gas and blocked the lanes, but cars were bumper to bumper in both lanes of the interstate. Some had pulled off the road and others were in the median, but the overall effect was like a bunch of matchbox cars left where some giant baby had been playing.

Sam stopped and pondered his options. There wasn’t much room to maneuver between cars, and at first, it looked hopeless. He could try pulling the cart over the grassy median, but if he got stuck, it would be a bitch to pull it out. Maybe he could find room on the shoulder, but that would mean getting really close to the cars. And if he got that close, he’d be able to see in. And he didn’t want to see in. He knew. This was the shit he’d avoided for so long. Sticking to the open road where he could pretend (yeah, right, bozo) that all that shit hadn’t happened and all those people (millions) weren’t dead.

On the other hand, their food supply was dangerously low and he was sure there would be some kind of provisions in the trunks or- jesus fuck- inside the cars themselves. Looking over at Dean, who sat silently with his dumb goggles on, Sam decided to just fucking do it already. Get into a couple of trunks, that’s easier, and see if they could scrounge some food, then worry about getting around the cars.

He drug the cart off the road and under the line of trees at the edge of the interstate. Readjusted Dean to avoid bedsores and keep him from getting stiff (who knows if he even got stiff, he never complained), grabbed a crowbar from his gear and tromped over to the first car he came to and jimmied the trunk open.

Nothing was useful, just clothes and photos, a diary and a jewelry box. Christ, what the hell were people thinking?  When you run from a fucking croatoan zombie horde, you don’t bring  your god damn diary, for Christ sake.  Sam cursed the stupidity of this particular person and thought they probably deserved going Croat.

The next couple of cars proved to be a better haul; a few canned goods, beef jerky (awesome), and a box of Twinkies – hallelujah! – plus a case of bottled water. Looking at the bottled water, Sam felt like he was looking at a relic from another age. Bottled water, Jesus Christ. He grabbed it all and trudged back to Dean and the cart.

-Oh man, you are gonna be so happy when you see what I got for you, Dean.

He held up the Twinkies.

-Check it out, man. Full box, and no, you can’t have any until you eat your dinner. Ok, what’s for dinner-- Hold on a sec. Hey, beef stew! Is this awesome or what?

They ate and Dean ate two Twinkies on top of it and Sam was sure he’d eat more if he let him. Sam was so happy he pulled Dean close and kissed him on the forehead.

-You stupid shit, I love you -know that?

Dean’s eyes shined and he huffed out a breath, which drew a questioning stare from Sam. It seemed like Dean was more awake than ever, and little things like seeing, peeing or a sigh could make Sam melt with happiness. Dean would close his eyes now if he was tired and Sam would lay him back, tucking him in like a baby, and stroke his cheek and whisper nonsense until he fell asleep. It was the closest he’d felt to anyone in his recent memory. Even if this Dean wasn’t like his old Dean, he was here, and alive, and that counted for something. It counted for everything.

Sam spread out his bedroll on the ground next to Dean and lay down, full and satisfied.  Closing his eyes, he felt a little more hopeful than yesterday.

…


	5. Chapter 5 -Shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's dreaming of Dean again. Dean helps Sam with some car advice, then they get high and hot for each other. Sam wakes up and sees Dean has needs, too, so he helps him out. Sam is coming to terms with his feelings about Dean, which are far from platonic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly porn, but sweet, loving porn. The section with Dean at the end is not noncon, since Dean wants it, too. Thank you, readers!

Chapter 5- Shotgun

 

Sam was in the Impala again. It was night, and they were riding on a dark strip of blacktop with the low hum of the engine droning in the background.

-Hey, Sleeping Beauty. About time you woke up.

Sam smiled even before he turned to Dean.

-I like seeing you driving.

-No kidding, brat. I see you got your shit together and are headed to Colorado.

-Yeah. Slow going, though. The whole road is blocked. I’m not sure how I’m gonna  get us past it.

Dean frowned, thinking.

-Try one of the cars. See if you can get it running. You’ll need a good battery, so you may need to swap some out till you find a good one. A heavy duty battery will have more life than something smaller. Then make sure you have a full tank. The fuller the tank, the less chance there  is that you’ll have water condensation that’s  gummed up the gas. If you’re really lucky, you can find some water displacement additive. That’s a little bottle of stuff to add to your gas. Be awesome if you find some.

Sam wished at that point he had some way to write this all down.

-Don’t worry, Sammy. You’ll remember it.

-Shit, I hope so. I barely remember anything you taught me, besides changing the oil.

-Well, you’re gonna have to do that, too, but you can do that when you get to town. Just get past this road blockage first, alright? Now, you want to be careful braking. Those drums and calipers are probably rusted to hell by now,  and you don’t want to find you have no stopping power when you step on the brake.

-Damn, this is a lot to remember, Dean.

-C’mon, Sammy. This should be a cakewalk for a Stanford boy.  When you get to town, go to a showroom and get something that was stored inside.  You’ll be riding in style, dude.

They exchanged smiles.

-I swear, Dean. It’s nice having a big brother sometimes.

-Okay, no need to get girly.

-No really, come on. I miss the hell out of you.

-I’m there Sammy. It’s still me.

Sam reached over and laid his hand on the back of Dean’s neck.

-Not really, Dean. Not like this. I see you, and I want you to be like this but you’re not the same. And I keep thinking about you. Even when I want to stop, I can’t help it. I think about you.

Dean turned and looked at Sam. He kept his eyes off the road a lot longer than anyone could safely do and Sam noticed it, but wasn’t worried by it.

-You know this is a dream, right Sammy?

Sam stroked a hand up and down the soft hair on the nape of Dean’s neck.

-I know, yeah.

-So you know it’s okay. What happens in your dream, right? It’s not real, so – well, anything can happen.

The car wasn’t moving anymore. They were parked on the edge of a wide field, lit by the full moon and a blanket of stars overhead. The night was comfortably warm and the music was bluesy and low. Dean held a joint in his hand.

\- Dean, I remember this night. We were alone for the summer in Indiana and you brought home that enormous bag of weed.

Dean met a girl who’s dad was the local pot dealer. She was a kinky little thing and they spent the entire summer getting high while Dean recounted his sexual exploits with his wild child. Sam thought her name was  Tiffany.

-Yeah, Tiffany, you’re right. She was hot, though. Do anything  you wanted and some things you didn’t.

Dean lifted the joint like an offering.

-Shotgun?

He took a hit, long and deep. Sam watched the way his lips closed around the end of the joint and the moment felt electric. When Dean smoked weed, he did it with the expertise he applied to everything. Watching Dean smoke was like watching a connoisseur–  the way he held the joint between relaxed fingers, instead of tightly pinched as if it was going to get away from him, making pot smoking look like a sensual act. Leaning forward, he wrapped his free hand around Sam’s neck, bringing him close. Their mouths were open and Sam inhaled the smoke and Dean’s breath until he had to turn away, unable to take any more.

-Hold it, Sammy. It’s good stuff- That’s it.

Sam held his breath and blew it out, feeling his head spin a little from the pot, or maybe, from the lack of oxygen.  He watched Dean’s lips wrap around the joint again.

-We shotgunned  that night too, didn’t we, Dean?

Dean was right, it was good stuff. He was already feeling a little high. Dean blew out the smoke and looked at him with more than a hint of intensity.

-Sure did, Sammy.  We were higher than kites, remember? I do. I remember how good you looked, like a big, soft, adorable puppy.

-Shut up.

-Honestly? You are sexy as hell when you’re stoned.  I was pretty fucking close to doing something I wanted to do for a long time. But I was a chickenshit.

He leaned over, shotgunning Sam again, this time, lip to lip, and when he was blowing the smoke, they stayed like that for a moment. Shit, thought Sam, I’m kissing Dean. He leaned closer when Dean pulled away.

-Dean. We should stop.

Dean moved close. They were practically in each other’s laps. Sam was high- and turned on. This is what he wanted that night in Indiana. When their inhibitions were down and the moment was so close. They both felt the sexual tension in the air, but neither had the nerve to take it to the next level.

-Dream, remember? None of this is really happening, Sammy. Think of it as you’re fantasy, maybe.

He hit the joint again, deeply, and moved in. Sealing his lips against Sam’s, he exhaled, pushing his tongue in and turning the shotgun into a kiss. Sam felt a thrill run through him as he pushed back with his tongue, opening Dean’s mouth wider, licking him open.  Dean’s hand had settled on  his thigh and was stroking gently back and forth, moving higher and higher and oh god, Sam was so fucking hard. Stoned and hard for his brother.

-Let it happen, let it happen. S’okay, Sammy. Let me make you feel good.

He leaned back and opened his legs, making room for Dean’s hands and he found himself reaching out for Dean, too.  The joint had disappeared and they were kissing now, hands everywhere, and shirts pulled up. Sam had his jeans unzipped and Dean was cupping him.

-Like that, Sammy? Oh god, you feel so good to me. Let me touch you.

He groaned and wrapped his hand around Sam’s cock and squeezed. Sam moaned and reached for Dean. They were both hard as rocks, with hips rocking of their own accord, kissing and stroking and making low sounds of pleasure.

-Dean, Jesus, what you do to me. Don’t stop.

-Not gonna stop, baby boy. Want you to come for me.

-Oh, fuck, Dean, Jesus Christ-

Sam was blind now. Nothing in his universe but Dean and his hand on Sam’s cock. The pleasure was better than anything he dared to imagine.

Dean whispered low and dirty against his mouth.

-You feel so good, baby. I bet you taste even better.

Damn, Sam was high and horny as hell, but was Dean suggesting-

-S’alright, Sammy. Let me do this, been wanting to for so long.

He leaned over Sam, licking him once, then sucking the head of his cock into his mouth. Sam saw stars and moaned loudly. The heat of Dean’s mouth on him was exquisite torture, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. When Dean started moving his head up and down the length of Sam’s cock, he had to fight the urge to push down and bury himself in Dean’s hot mouth.

-Fuck, oh fuck, Dean- you gonna make me come, shit-

Dean took him deep, sucking  and working his throat, and Sam came in bursts of intense pleasure, as Dean swallowed him down, working him though the last pulses of his orgasm, Sam arching upwards, giving it all to him, giving him everything.

…

He opened his eyes. The sun still shining overhead. He felt the come against his stomach and the glow of the orgasm still lingering in his balls. He could hear Dean next to him, breathing heavily, and when he turned, Dean’s eyes were dark with lust. Not thinking, Sam leaned over and put his mouth on Dean’s.  He licked across his lips, and slipped his tongue between. Dean’s tongue met his softly and he was kissing Sam back. Really kissing him.

Sam  ran his hand across Deans chest and across his stomach as he licked and kissed him. Dean inhaled sharply and Sam reached lower, finding Dean’s cock. He was hard- as hard as he was in Sam’s dream and as Sam pressed down, Dean made a small sound. Sam whispered against his mouth.

-Is it okay, Dean? Is this okay?

He looked in Dean’s eyes and saw nothing but lust and need, and he went ahead and fumbled with the button and zipper of his pants, freeing Dean’s cock. Dean closed his eyes and keened softly. His cock bobbed, hard and ready, and  a pearly drop rested on the slit. Sam looked down and wrapped his hand around it, thumbing across the head.

-Jesus, Dean, you’re so beautiful.

He stroked Dean- gently at first, and hearing another soft moan, harder and faster. Dean’s breath was heavier and he was making little sounds that were getting Sam hard all over again. Sam felt him tense and hold his breath and then he was coming, hot and wet, over Sam’s hand, while Sam kept licking at sucking at his lips.

-Love you, Dean. Love you so much.

Dean just looked back, but Sam thought he saw love there, too.

…

 

 


	6. Chapter 6- Cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving Dean at the campsite, Sam overcomes his fear and searches for a working vehicle. Ellen appears to him and helps him through it. When he comes back, Dean is missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit angsty, but otherwise, a nice break from the depression. Enjoy!

Chapter 6- Cars

 

Sitting across the fire, eating a cold can of chili, Sam watched Dean, propped in his usual place atop the cart. He hadn’t made a single sound since their little jack off session. Might have been because as soon as Sam realized what he’d done, he scrambled away, cussing and yelling,  having a minor melt down over it.  In fairness, calling Dean a useless fucking meatsuit was probably a low blow. Since then, Dean wouldn’t meet  his eyes and he was even more empty than usual, if that was possible.

He couldn’t figure out what Dean’s problem was. If anyone should be upset it should be Sam, he was the one who crossed the line. Dean was just doing what they do on the Discovery Channel; following his basic instincts. It’s not like he was getting off on Sam, per se, right? His body had needs. Sam was the one who should be ashamed, anyway, and he did. Felt like shit for what he’d done.

-Dean.

Look at him over there. Like goddamn Mr. Roboto.

 - _Dean!_

Dean’s eyes slowly swiveled over and met Sam’s. A hint of irritation was obvious on his face. Sam knew every expression Dean had; could read him like a book, and he knew this one. Didn’t matter that it was small and subtle and spoken with only his eyes. Dean was pissed.

-What. No, really, what?

He threw the can into the fire and got up to get something for Dean to eat.

-Here, got a can of ravioli.

He sat heavily on the edge of the cart and peeled back the lid. Stabbed a spoon in and dug out a bite sized piece.  He held it to Dean’s mouth and waited. Dean sat there like a stone, glaring at him.

-Are you serious? You’d better eat this, I’m not kidding.

Dean didn’t move a muscle. Not unusual, ha-ha, but really, he was still, even for him. Sam saw him narrow his eyes. Sam put the spoon right onto his lips, but Dean just kept glaring.

-Fine, you dick. Go hungry. I don’t give a shit. In fact, it’s mine, now.

He made a face, petulant and juvenile, he knew, but what the fuck, if Dean was going to be a bitch, so could he. He ate the ravioli right there, in front of him. While eating, he spoke, sounding every bit as bitchy and pissy as he felt.

-Since you’re part of this little expedition, I’m going to keep you clued in on the plan. I don’t have to, I don’t need to. I’m doing it to be _nice_.

He was full, but kept eating, because damn if he was gonna give Dean the satisfaction of seeing him not finish that god damn ravioli.

-So here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m going down there and see if I can find us a working car. You, on the other hand, are gonna sit you’re sorry ass here. Like always.  I don’t know how long it’s gonna take so you’ll probably get hungry, or thirsty or need to take a shit or something while I’m gone, and guess what- _I don’t give a fuck_ -you useless dick.

He scraped the bottom of the can, ate it, and used the spoon as a pointer, jabbing it at Dean for emphasis.

-You forget who takes care of things around here, Dean.

He threw the can into the fire.

-So don’t sit there giving me a bitchface, alright?

He got up and walked away.

…

As he approached the jam of cars, Sam felt the anxiety rise in his chest. Trying to breathe deeply and willing himself to stay calm, Sam kept walking. He laughed aloud a little. Like whistling when you pass a graveyard, he thought.  I’ve killed monsters that haunt other people’s nightmares  and I’m afraid of a _car_. Jesus, Sam, you are one sorry piece of shit. He stopped, ready to turn back.

-It’s gonna take you boys a hell of a long time to get to Colorado if you have to walk, Sam.

He whipped around.

-Ellen?

She looked just as beautiful as the first time he saw her at the Roadhouse. Standing there, her long hair across her shoulders, he could almost believe she was real. She looked at him kindly, and he felt a lump rise in his throat.

-You don’t understand-

-Sam, come on now. You can do this. Why, I saw you face things that would make other hunters piss their pants.

He wanted to tell her he couldn’t do it. She stood there, the closest thing to a mother he’d ever known, and yeah, it was a little messed up in that he found her kind of sexy, but damn, she had no idea how hard this was for him. He really didn’t want to let her down.

-Ellen, you’re dead.

-Yeah. So?

-Um. Look. I can’t do this. I know I should, but –

-Oh Hell. Come on. I’ll go with you.

She took a few steps, then stopped and turned around.

-Well? You coming or not?

…

In retrospect, it was all pretty easy. He went from car to car, avoiding the ones with a body in them and tried the truck and four wheel drive vehicles first. Ellen reminded him of things Dean had told him; the full gas tank, the charged battery.  A few times he had to stop and catch his breath,  feeling blackness surround him like a tunnel and his vision narrowing until he knew he was close to passing out, but Ellen stayed with him, murmuring things like it’s alright, honey and you’re doing fine until he came back to his senses.

There was some evidence of violence, brown smears on seats and windshields, which he guessed were signs of a Croatoan attack, and a few times, bullet holes. Most of the cars were just empty. Overall, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen a hundred times before as a hunter. After the fifth car, he was almost used to it. Almost.

Twenty-five vehicles later, he felt he might have found success. It was a black Range Rover, fairly new, from the likes of it, with plenty of room for all their gear and tough enough to navigate off road if it came to that. He had to search another twenty cars for a battery that had a charge, and let out a whoop when he came across a tow truck that had a battery he could use and a well-stocked tool box. There was even a little bottle full of gas additive.

Taking the tools and battery back to the Range Rover was exhausting and Ellen’s encouragements, while nice, were beginning to get on his nerves. He was about to tell her so, when he noticed she had disappeared. It didn’t matter; he was in full Winchester mode now, mission capable and all that crap.

The sun was almost setting when he got the last of the cars pushed out of the way of the Range Rover. Turning the key, she cranked, then died.  He pumped the gas a few times and tried again. This time, the engine caught and Sam felt a thrill as he sat in the driver’s seat of the rumbling vehicle. The engine smoothed out after a few minutes and the rumble settled to a growly purr. Sam was already in love with her.

The moment of truth came when he had to carefully maneuver out of the pack. She handled beautifully, and he gingerly took her off road, creeping up against the treeline, where there was still room to get by the crush of stalled vehicles.

Sam put her into park and sat there for a moment, catching his breath and aware of something weird happening. He felt, - _strong_. The only word for it was strong. Like something missing had been put back. He felt fuller than before, and it was weird and stupid, but he felt like Sam Winchester again; like the man who faced down angels, demons, and Lucifer himself.  Suddenly, the emotions overwhelmed him and he laid his head against the wheel and cried. Relief ran through him like a river. Maybe they would make it after all.

…

It was full dark when he drove back to the campsite. He reveled in the luxury of the leather seat, and the high vantage point which gave him an unmistakable sense of power and comfort. The Range Rover’s beams cut a swath through the darkness and he couldn’t wait get back and show Dean.  Sam felt a moment of unease when he didn’t see the cart in the darkness, but suddenly, there it was, looking pathetically small and vulnerable. Only, where the hell was Dean?

He jerked the wheel , pointing the headlights at the campsite and threw it into park. Jumping from the vehicle, he ran to the cart, screaming Dean’s name.

_Ohgod,ohgod,ohgod_

-DEAN? _DEAN CAN YOU HEAR ME_ -

There he was, crumpled at the foot of the cart, in the shadows, twisted painfully. Who knows how long he’s been laying that way, he wondered frantically. Is he even still breathing-

He grabbed him in his arms and pulled him to his chest.

-Dean! God, Jesus, are you alright- what happened-

Dean opened his eyes. Sam felt tears spring into his own.

-It’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay, Dean, I got you. _I got you._

Dean’s mouth curved into a ghost of a smile. He had a smear of dirt on one side of his face from laying in the dirt.

-Sam--meee

-Jesus Christ, you scared me so much, he panted.

He drew Dean close, crushing him in a hug, thinking, my god, he talked, he moved.  It suddenly occurred to Sam that maybe he was injured and he felt along Dean’s arms and legs, looking for a broken bone or laceration. Catching Dean’s eyes in his, he stilled. A growing smile was pasted goofily across Dean’s dirty face.

-You stupid dick, you scared the hell out of me, you know that?

He rumpled Dean’s hair affectionately and touched his forehead to Dean’s, murmuring  against his bristly cheek.

-I did it, Dean, I did it. I got us a vehicle. You’re gonna love it. Tomorrow, I’m taking you for a ride.

…

 

 


	7. Chap 7- Black Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Dean begins to regain some of his faculties, Sam reminds him of who they are; with a little help of Led Zeppelin. Short and sweet, but it marks a milestone; the return of Sam and Dean Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a super short chapter, but I think it ends on a high note. Thank you, to everyone who's reading and I hope you like where we're going!

Chapter 7 –  Black Dog

 

Sam woke to the sounds of birdsong.  The sky was a clear, piercing blue and it was warmer than the day before.  He felt unusually relaxed. Sam stretched and glanced over at Dean to find him looking back.

- _Sam_.

Sam grinned. Man, that was so good to hear.

-Hey, Dean. How you feeling this morning?

He rolled over and checked his vitals. Pulse, strong. Lungs, clear. Eyes, alert.

- _Sam_.

-Yeah, it’s me. Sam.

Look at him, laying there smiling like a goofball. Sam wanted to lean over and kiss him.

-Hey, let’s get up and eat something, and then I wanna show you our new ride. What do you think about that?

Dean just smiled and replied, _Sam_.

Oh boy, I hope he remembers another word soon, he smiled to himself.

After washing up, changing clothes and a breakfast of canned peaches and PopTarts, Sam tried to navigate Dean to the Range Rover.  It wasn’t easy, but Sam could do an odd sort of lift/carry/shuffle and little by little they were at the passenger door. Then more lifting and pulling until Sam had wrestled Dean into the seat. He slammed the door, ran around, and jumped into the driver’s seat, catching his breath.

-Well? -Whaddya think?

Sam could read the play of emotions in Dean’s eyes; wonder and joy, then a bit of nostalgic sadness, and joy again.  Sam stroked Deans hand across the leather seat, then dug around in the center console.

-Saved the best for last, Dean—

He waggled the CD back and forth in his hand.

-Zeppelin! C’mon, I’ve been dying to hear this—

He opened the CD, fingers fumbling- was it always this hard to open these damn things? Slid it into the CD player, and twisted the volume knob. The opening riff of Black Dog pounded from the speakers.  Dean’s eyes widened, his head turning slightly to meet Sam’s, and god, this was the best thing ever, Sam thought, because no matter that the car wasn’t right and the world was fucked and they were both cracked in two, - at this moment, it was like old times, when they were Sam and Dean Winchester; who fought the Devil, died too many times to count, and did it all side-by-side.

\- _Awesome_ , right?

Looking at Dean, who’s eyes practically _glowed_ , Sam felt like he’d found firm footing, after standing on the shifting sands of his near-insanity for too long. They sat in reverent silence, listening to the soundtrack of their life. When the music changed to Stairway to Heaven, he reached over and gripped Dean by the shoulder.

-This is for us, man. Remember us? We were,- we _are_ the Winchesters. Dad would be so proud of us, Dean, I know he would. And we’re _not_ giving up. I’m not. _I know we can do this._ I need you with me, man- just you and me, like always, right?

And Dean looked at him, whispering his name ( _Sammy_ ) and his face took on a look that Sam could only describe as determination. Sam flung his arms around Dean’s shoulders and gripped him tight, while Dean’s ever louder litany of _Sam, Sam, Sam_ drove away the last of his doubts.

The Winchesters may be broken, battered, and more than a little crazy, but by God, they were back.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8 - Mississippi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are on the road. Sam thinks he's losing time, or losing his mind. And Dean plays big brother again. A short chapter, more like an interlude.

Chapter 8- Mississippi

They were parked on the side of the interstate, eating warm food for the first time in Sam’s recent memory. Finding a camp stove and propane in one of the abandoned cars was a stroke of luck, and the canned soup was so good it made his eyes water.

-Sammy.

-Yeah, Dean?

It was frustrating. With the few words Dean spoke, Sam rarely got it right. It was a guessing game trying to figure out what he was trying to say.

-Pee.

Sam grinned at him.

-Yeah, man, You sure did. That’s fucking awesome.

-Yeah.

In fact, Dean had been in control of his bladder and bowels the last few days, thank Jesus, because they were down to one diaper, and Sam had wracked his brains trying to come up with ideas how to deal with that, and he hadn’t been too successful. Now that they had the Range Rover, though, it would be easy to take an exit ramp and scavenge some from a store.  

Each day, Dean was regaining his skills with increasing frequency. First it was one word, Sam; then Pee, then, in quick succession; No, Eat and Fuck. It was like a baby on steroids. If by baby you meant a six foot man with an attitude problem and a foul mouth.

Now he was sitting there, sideways in the passenger seat with the door open, wearing sunglasses Sam had scrounged from the glovebox;  and if you didn’t look too closely, he could be any guy out on a weekend drive, rocking a pair of Tom Ford aviators and a leather jacket. It broke Sam’s heart that Dean had just bragged that he was now potty trained. Fuck the world.

…

-What the hell?

Sam hit the brakes, rolling to a stop in front of a sign that said, Welcome to Mississippi.  He felt a buzzing in his head like a swarm of angry bees and the clarity of the last two days disappeared in a cloud of confusion.

-Dean, I swear- I thought we were in Pennsylvania...

His voice trailed off. All this time, the traffic jam, the trip to Home Depot, Walmart- he was positive they were in Pennsylvania. He’d been on autopilot for as long as he could remember, sure, but how could he have missed traveling though half of the eastern states? _No_. _Was he that messed up?_

-I. I thought--

The sign, with its colors still bright and vivid, and the tagline _The Magnolia State_ underneath, was like a roadblock. What the hell was wrong with him? He was just sitting there, looking at it, like some dumb ox _( moose. you’re a dumb moose_ )

-S’okay, Sam.

He heard Dean; should say something to him, something reassuring. Something to make him feel like he wasn’t making a huge ass mistake in putting his trust in Sam.  Who was now obviously _not_ okay, since he didn’t even know _what motherfucking state he was in._

Was this a sign of how it was gonna be? Him lost and confused and driving all over the god damned country because he couldn’t even keep track of where he was? Or was he losing time? Maybe he lost time. That could account for how Dean was getting better so fast. But, still…

-Sam.

- _SAM._

He looked at Dean, the aviators on, looking so fucking normal , _although god damn, we all know he’s not a mile away from normal yet, don’t we?_ Dean, sounding concerned and big brotherly despite his immobility and lack of vocab.

-S’okay, Sammy.

Sam rubbed his hand over his face, looked away, then back at Dean. Tried to gather the threads and knit  himself back together before the shaking started and they were parked here for hours.

-I don’t know if I can do this, Dean.

Dean frowned. The aviators hid his eyes, and Sam wanted to take them off. Wanted to see his big brother in there. Needed his brother, right the fuck now.

-Sammy. S’okay-s’okay…

A lump rose in Sam’s throat. Yeah, he was it. The only one who could keep Dean alive. What else could he do? If he gave up now, after everything- it would all be on him. The awful pricking in his eyes threatened to turn to tears. 

-Alright, Dean.

He put on his glasses and stepped on the gas.

…

They stopped outside of Meridian, Mississippi for the night.  After the little episode of Sam nearly losing his shit at the Welcome sign, things seemed a whole lot better, to the point that Sam drove them to a motel- one of those no-tell motels they’d practically grown up in.  He managed to get Dean and the gear inside before he started feeling claustrophobic and freaked.

Dean was face up, laying on one of the motel beds.  Sam looked at him, trying to conjure up the memories of all the times they stayed in shithole places like this. It might make it bearable- make it so he could sleep without wanting to run screaming out the door.

-Sleep, Sammy.

-Yeah, okay, Dean. In a minute.

There was something comforting about looking at Dean laying there on those musty sheets. If he tried, Sam could find the ghost of a feeling, unfortunately, the feeling wasn’t altogether brotherly. Dean was looking at him, expectant, those green eyes so trusting and his body relaxed and soft, so unlike the way Sam was used to seeing him, rigid and half alive.

-You look good laying there, Dean.

It was out before he caught it, not even realizing for a moment what he’d said. Dean’s eyes glittered and he patted the sheet with a simple, subtle movement.

-I don’t think so, Dean, but thanks. We’ve got two beds, might as well use them, right?

He slid into the sheets, and reached over to turn off the camping lantern.

…

It seemed he’d only just closed his eyes, just blinked, and he was here with Dean, but this time, they were surrounded by empty beer cans and a giant pizza box by their feet. The motel room was his room, but it was also different. He could swear when they first got here that the wallpaper was green with blue flowers, but now it seemed more blue with yellow flowers. That wasn’t the worst. He was laying in Dean’s bed- with a naked Dean.

-Fuck, Dean, please tell me this is a dream.

-I was wondering when you’d get here, Sam.

…


	9. Chapter 9- Out of Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is dreaming of Dean, again, who has an idea of how to help him deal with the stress. Yes, you have the idea. Let the porn commence!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing porn is hard. A lot harder than it looks. This is my first attempt at writing such a long scene, and hopefully it's not too flowery, but sexy with a touch of sweetness. Just like I imagine Sam and Dean's first time would be. Hopefully, you'll enjoy.  
> (Also, I've changed the writing style. I'll go back and update previous chapters; but I hope the difference here isn't too jarring.)

 

Chapter 9- Out of Control

 

                 Sam’s eyes widened, meeting Dean’s, who was smiling warmly, but whose smoky eyes held a hint of something deeper.

                 “Dean,” Sam whispered. "Are you okay?”

Dean had his head propped on one arm, the other casually draped along his hip, the sheet drawn up to his waist. “Sure, Sammy, why do you say that?”

                “Um, I don’t know- maybe because you’re naked. -We’re naked.” He said, starting off strong with the sarcasm, then trailing off piteously into mumbling uncertainty.

                He knew it was a dream, but this was way, _way_ more than he was ready to handle, even in his subconscious. Or that’s what he was telling himself.  He wasn’t quite afraid, or uneasy; and as the seconds ticked by, he found himself in a kind of calm acceptance that this was okay. That it was _right_. That was the thing about dreams, the way they had of making what seemed so wrong or impossible in reality feel right and natural in the dreamscape.

                Dean plucked at the sheet. “Sammy, don’t worry. Nothing to be afraid of.” He stretched, like a cat, all coiled power and lazy ease. “You know I’d never let anything bad happen to you. You’re going to be okay,- you gotta trust me.” He reached across and combed back Sam’s hair. “Remember what I told you? That anything can happen?”

                Sam looked into Dean’s eyes. “Yes,” he breathed.

                “Okay, then-there’s not a problem.” Dean continued combing back Sam’s hair; his fingertips raking Sam’s scalp pleasurably. It was something he did when Sam was little, if he was worried about Dad being okay, or crying because some kids had been picking on him. Sam never felt safer or more loved in those moments. Dean would stroke his hair until he calmed down, or fell asleep. He'd forgotten about it, but now, Dean's fingers in his hair, rubbing the tension away-all those feelings came flooding back, and he surrendered himself to the idea that _Dean was here- he was going to make things okay._

                “Poor Sammy,” as DreamDean reassured him softly.”So tense all the time. So much pressure. Don’t you get tired of it?”

                Sam thought to himself that this wasn’t like Dean at all. He was more likely to tell him to suck it up and stow his crap than to offer empathy- and it damn sure never would have come with a scalp massage.

                “Hey, I’m a hard ass, I know,” Dean chuckled, “but I also know when my little brother’s been on the edge - carrying that weight, for too long. I worry about you, Sammy.”

                “It’s okay, Dean,” Sam whispered. “I’m dealing with it.”

                Dean continued to pet his hair. “Now c’mon, tell me the truth. Tell me, Sam.”

                Like it is in dreams, when things are weirdly different than reality, Sam felt compelled to tell Dean the things he didn’t want to admit, to Dean or to himself. Without hesitation, he said,” I think I’m not strong enough to handle it anymore, Dean. If I fuck things up, you’ll die- and if you die, I couldn’t live with it- without you. I’m just, just-“ His breath hitched and he suddenly felt tears threatening,  “I don’t want you to die, Dean. _I_ don’t want to die- but, I’m afraid. I’m afraid every minute of every day.”

                He felt himself trembling and vulnerable under his brother's eyes; fragile, like he'd bared his tender places to pain that could take him down; reduce him to ashes.

                “You spend a lot of the time making decisions for both of us, don’t you?” Dean said.” What to eat, where to sleep, where to go- it’s probably overwhelming, isn’t it?”

                “Fuck yes, it is,” Sam sighed, feeling the weight of it, the heavy weariness he struggled with each day.

                “How many times a day do you wish someone else was there to do it for you- take off some of the load- take it out of your hands?” Dean asked, his hand still running through Sam’s hair.

                “So many times, Dean. So many times.”

                Dean gathered Sam in his arms, holding him- just holding him close; his lips at Sam’s ear, murmuring, it’s alright Sammy and hush, it’s okay, and then he was over Sam and kissing him tenderly and with such gentleness that Sam got a knot in his throat that got bigger and bigger until found himself crying soundlessly, tears running back into his ears with Dean trying to kiss them away.

                “Sammy, I can’t stand it to see you like this, hurting like this.” He kissed Sam again, chastely. “I’m not able to help you with much, but I will be soon. I promise you that. You won’t have to do it all alone. “ He kissed Sam again, now deeply and fiercely, and rolled into him, pressing his body against Sam’s. Sam kissed him back with equal fervor, reaching eagerly into his mouth with his tongue, his body responding to Dean’s and his hips canting up of their own volition to push against him-  needing contact as the tears went away, replaced by a burning want.

                Dean chuckled darkly. “Oh Sammy, you’ve been working so hard” He pressed his hips to Sam’s. “taking in all on your shoulders-” rocked again into Sam, “I should take away some of that- _pressure-_ ” rubbing again, “-and take it out of your hands for awhile.” He rolled over on top of Sam, his elbows on either side of Sam’s head.

                He nuzzled Sam’s neck for a couple of minutes; licked behind his ear, leaving Sam breathless and panting, _ohyeah,yeah-_ and said, ”Whaddya say, Sammy?- ready to let go of all the decision making?”

                “What do you mean?,” Sam breathed, feeling lusty and relaxed.

                “Mm, you got me so turned on,” Dean smiled, “I think I wanna tie you up and have my way with you.”

                Sam was stroking Dean’s shoulders and back. “Yeah, right. Fuck that noise.” He gave Dean a small, dirty smirk. “As if-“

                Dean’s eyes turned smoky and dark and he reached down, circling Sam’s wrist. He slowly pulled it upward until it was over Sam’s head. Sam looked at him with a half smile, “Dean-”

                “Just helping you to let go, Sammy.” Dean reached down and grabbed Sam’s other hand, pulling until he had both Sam’s arms pinned over his head. “Gotcha now, Sammy boy.” He smiled devilishly and leaned in for a deep kiss that took Sam’s breath away.

                “Okay, Dean, funny joke- “ He tried to squirm out of Dean’s hold, but this DreamDean was strong. Strong enough that he found himself unable to move. Being restrained like this scared him a little, but he felt a frisson of excitement run down his spine.

                “Uh-uh, Sam. You’re not in charge anymore, “ Dean said, leaning close and breathing heavily. He was turned on; Sam could feel the hard line of his cock against his hip. “Fuck. So sexy like this, Sammy.”

                Sam suddenly felt uncomfortable. He was never one to sit with his back exposed, or leave himself vulnerable, if he could help it. Maybe it was one too many times finding himself at the mercy of some monster, or being restrained when he was detoxing from the demon blood, but he felt for a moment that he couldn’t let himself be controlled like this. He began to struggle in earnest, twisting and arching against Dean.

                “Mm, yeah, Sammy, like that-“ Dean held him down, countering any twist or turn Sam made; holding his arms in an iron-like grip. “Love you when you’re helpless. So fucking hot.”

                “No, Dean, don’t-“ Sam panted, turning away from Dean’s plundering kisses, but somehow, not being able to. Not even really trying.

                “This is what you need, Sammy,” Dean growled. “No more control. No more decisions. I’m taking that away. Gonna be the one in charge now, you hear me?” He leaned in to bite softly at Sam’s neck, bringing forth an involuntary moan. “See, baby? You know you like it. Now let me do this.“

                Dean groaned low and deep and levered one of his legs between Sam’s, using his other leg to spread him apart. “Open your legs for me, sweetheart, that’s it- wanna feel that cock on mine.”  Sam felt weak; unable to fight him off, and as he got even harder, he knew he really didn’t want to.

                Dean was breathing harder, smiling darkly, the picture of lust.

                “No more Sammy in charge. No more Sammy being the one- ,” he rutted against Sam again, _” -responsible.”_

“Stop, Dean, stop this,“ Sam begged even as his hips rose to meet Dean’s.

                “Uh-uh. That’s not how we’re gonna play this. You’re mine, Sammy. I’m the one in control here, you understand me? You have _no say_ in what’s gonna happen. No say. No responsibility, Sammy. Now you be a good boy and do as you’re told and I’ll let you suck my cock before I fuck you.”

                Sam sucked in his breath. He felt a bolt of desire shoot straight to the end of his dick when Dean mentioned fucking him.

                “Oh yeah, baby, I’m gonna fuck you. Fuck you in that pretty little hole of yours until you scream. Fuck you open and let you suck the come out of my cock. God _damn._ “ Dean sucked hard on Sam’s tongue and Sam was suddenly thinking about his last dream, when Dean had sucked him off in the Impala for the first time.

                “Mm, remembering that, huh? You liked it, didn’t you? Answer me, Sam.”

                Sam twisted away,”No, not gonna,- Dean, get off-“

                Dean pressed down on Sam’s arms with his forearms, “Oh that’s how we’re gonna play it? Alright then, I think you need a little extra reminder of who’s in charge here.”

                Again, dreams-such crazy things. His hands were now bound together with a length of rope, tied to a hook on the bed – _what the fuck?-_ and Dean was letting his hands roam across Sam, flicking his sensitive nipples before he swiped at one with his tongue.

                Sam sucked in his breath, _“Oh god. Dean-“_

               “Let’s try this again.” Dean bit gently at the other nipple. “Say ‘I liked when you sucked my cock, Dean’.”

                Sam moaned. It felt filthy and so fucking sexy, when he shyly complied, “I liked when you sucked my cock, Dean.”

                “That’s better,“ Dean said. He rutted against Sam in a parody of fucking, as he leaned up to capture Sam’s mouth. “Gonna let you suck my cock, too, babe, you want to?”

                “Yes, Dean, want to.” Oh god, he wanted to, Christ, he fucking wanted to.

                “Want to what?”

                “Want to suck your cock.” Sam felt embarrassed. Horny and turned on and fuck- wanted to do whatever Dean wanted. Just the idea that Dean could _make him_ had him squirming.

                “God yeah, “ Dean panted,” gonna make you suck me down, make you my bitch. Wanna mess you all up, Sammy.” He rose and moved up the bed, straddling Sam’s shoulders now, “Fuck, take that cock.” He pushed his cock into Sam’s mouth and moved slowly in and out. “Fuck yeah, Sammy, just like that.”

                Sam closed his eyes and sucked on Dean. The position was awkward, and he only really had the head of Dean’s cock in his mouth, but fuck, he was _blowing Dean_.  The salty precum that leaked from Dean was an acrid tang on Sam’s tongue that made his own balls tighten. With every shallow thrust, Sam was moaning, running his tongue on the underside of the head, memorizing the shape and feel of it. He opened his eyes and Dean was looked down, intently watching him, his eyes blown wide with need. With spit leaking from the corners of his mouth, Sam kept his eyes on Dean's until he drew back and the head came out of Sam’s mouth with a wet _pop._

                “Being such a good boy, Sammy-“  Dean lay next to Sam. He ran his hands over his chest, flicking the nipples again and down his stomach until he was cupping his balls. He slid his hand lightly over Sam’s cock and Sam inhaled sharply.

                “Dean-“

                Stroking once, twice, Dean answered, “Gonna be my good boy tonight, Sammy?” he tightened his hand and Sam gasped. “Say it.”

                “I’m gonna be a good boy, Dean- _fuck_ -“

                “Sam. Good boys don’t use such foul language, do they?”

                “No,-no, sir.” Sam knew he’d pressed one of Dean’s buttons when he heard him groan and felt him squeeze again. Seems Dean had a few kinks of his own.

                Dean continued his feather light strokes up and down Sam’s cock. A pearly bead hung from the head. Swiping it up with his finger, Dean slipped it into Sam’s mouth. “See how good you taste.” Closing his eyes, Sam sucked his precum off Dean’s finger and thought it was about the hottest thing he’d ever done.

                Dean pulled the now-wet finger from Sam’s mouth and reached down between Sam’s legs.  Sam felt Dean sliding along the crease of his ass, up and down, up and down and then pressing inward. With a grunt, Sam felt the finger penetrate him slightly and he moaned, spreading his legs wider.

                “Liking that, huh? “ Dean pushed harder and slid his finger inside Sam, making Sam gasp.  It felt full and god, _so good_ , and absently- his typical analytical mind wondered about the ease of it and how that was possible, after all, shouldn’t they need some lube, or lotion- maybe something else to ease the way-

                “Quit thinking so hard, Sammy,” Dean rumbled, and moved his finger in and out in a smooth rhythm, and Sam quit thinking about lube, quit thinking about anything except the alien, and incredibly pleasurable feeling in his ass.

                Dean shifted slightly to push further into Sam, reaching deep and – _oh!_ – touched something inside that gave him a little shock of pleasure. It was his prostate, he knew, again, so fucking analytical- just go with it , and – _oh!, again, please_ -Dean was teasing him, that fucker, and god, please just keep doing that, he said in his head.

                Sam was just getting into it when Dean murmured, “Second one,” and he felt a fuller stretch, a little painful, but not bad, and when Dean said, “Doing so good, baby” he moaned and tried to open his legs more, feeling sluttish and wanton.

                The fingers in Sam felt good, the hint of pain felt good, too, and when Dean began spreading his fingers apart, working them in and out and scissoring them again and again, Sam couldn’t help but beg, “More, please, Dean-“

                “What do you want? Tell me, Sammy.”

                “More, please, Dean” he ground out, “more- fingers.”

                Dean shoved them in and out. Reached deep every couple strokes to hit that spot inside that made sparks fly beneath Sam’s eyelids.

                “Gotta be more specific than that, Sam. Tell me what you want.”

                Sam moaned, panting now, “Put another finger in me, Dean, please-“

                “Oh yeah, loving it, aren’t you?  Gonna get you nice and open for my cock, Sammy.” He pulled out his fingers and ordered him , “Turn over”, and Sam, still tied, struggled to turn on his stomach.  Dean moved lower to inspect his gently bruised hole, and when Sam felt the warm, wetness of his tongue , he nearly rose off the bed.

                Sam felt Dean pull apart his cheeks and the gentle action of his tongue along his crack, then circling and flicking at the hole. He felt Dean's tongue lapping at him, then ever so slightly pushing against the hole in a rhythmic fucking motion. Sam was left trembling and needy, wanting more, but Dean pulled back, whispering softly - _fuck, love you like this_. When Dean slid three fingers into him, Sam couldn’t help but raise his ass, trying to meet the thrust.

                “That’s it, that’s it, Sammy.” He gave gentle bites where Sam’s thigh met his ass cheek. “Take it, Sammy, just like that-“

                Sam was arching to meet each thrust of Dean’s fingers, wanting more, wanting them deeper. Involuntary sounds escaped him, little keening moans that he didn't bother to suppress- his body's need the only thing he had any awareness of- just the want of _more, ohgod, don'tstop._

                “Yeah, baby, fuck my fingers. Just like that, fuck my fingers- god, you look so fucking sexy like that.” He kept up the rhythm, in and out, brushing across the prostate, tapping it. “ I can’t wait to pop your cherry, baby- gonna fuck you so hard- fuck that pretty little hole of yours.”

                 Sam could have stayed like that for hours. Maybe not hours, since he was sure he was well on his way to coming if Dean would just keep fingering him with his long, skillful digits, but Dean pulled them out and moved over Sam’s back, knees spread, rubbing his cock in the crack of Sam’s ass.

                 Dean leveraged himself up on one arm, and used the other to guide himself into Sam. He pressed his cock against Sam’s hole - and worked it in , until the head breeched the muscle and slid home into velvety heat. It hurt. Goddamn it hurt, and when Dean slid it all the way in, he lay still for a moment, gentling Sam with small caresses down his sides.

                 “Doing okay, Sammy?” and Sam smiled, because their little game notwithstanding, Dean was still Dean, god love him, and was going to make sure Sam was alright -and then he felt his body accepting the intrusion and there was the most incredible urge to _move_.

                 “I’m good, Dean. Just – do it already, “ He pushed back onto Dean. “Fuck me, _please_.”

                 Dean pushed himself up on his hands, and pulling back, he groaned, “Jesus, Sammy, fuck-“ before sliding slowly back in. “Don’t wanna hurt you, man.” He slowly began fucking Sam.

                 Sam lifted his hips to meet Dean’s as much as he was able, and moaned with frustration, “Goddamn it, Dean, I’m not going to break, just please, _fuck me_. Fuck me harder-“

                 With that, Dean let out a low growl , “Jesus, Sammy, -“

                 He pushed Sam up to his knees, and taking hold of Sam’s hips and bore down in a punishing pace, giving Sam what he could, soon slamming his cock into that silken heat, punctuating each thrust with a steady stream of hot and filthy profanity that would have sounded ridiculous without the haze of lust surrounding them.

                 “Oh, fuck, Sammy, so good, god _damn_ , you look so good taking my cock; so fucking beautiful, Sam, fuck- wanna bury myself in you- fill you up with my dick, baby. god, yeah, take it, fuck-“

                 Then, laying over Sam, he pushed him down, _fucking him into the mattress for real, Sam thought_ , hands wrapping under his body to grab his shoulders in an vice-like grip, pushing deep- getting as far into Sam as he could- touching that magical spot inside again and again, so that Sam could feel his orgasm building and building- ready to come any second.

                 “Love you Sammy, - _fuck_ – love you so fucking much-“ and then Dean was coming; Sam could feel the muscles of Dean’s body tense as he thrust his way through his orgasm, and the thought that Dean was coming, _coming inside him_ , sent him over the edge into the blindness of pure pleasure and bliss.

                 He was laying in Dean’s arms, the rope bindings gone, and Dean was holding him- stroking him; arms and chest and face- and they were kissing tenderly, their orgasms making them mellow and relaxed to the point of drowsiness; and Sam knew he’d never felt this way with anyone before or would after. Dean was what he wanted. What he needed.

                 “Guess I went a little off-script near the end, there, huh?”Dean chuckled in Sam’s ear.

                 “D’you hear me complaining?” Sam replied. He smiled into Deans neck, and closed his eyes.

...

 

 

 

 

               

 

 

               


	10. Chapter 10- Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean stop do some research in an abandoned library. Sam thinks he knows what's wrong with Dean. Now he has to break it to him- and because it's Sam and Dean, it's gonna hurt. Spoilers for Season 8 finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not idea what the Meridian, MS library looks like. Mine is just from my imagination.  
> I'm not a medical professional. All info about strokes is found from internet sources and WebMD.

Chapter 10- Library

 

              Sam would look at Dean sometimes and see a flicker of what he couldn’t help thinking of as the Old Dean- usually it was when Dean was tired or just waking up. It was certain softness in his eyes, and the way he held his mouth. In that moment, Sam could imagine he was going to say _up and at ‘em, kiddo_ and smile. He would try hard to hold onto it, but it was a tenuous thing, and disappeared in an instant; like it was just an echo- or a memory. Or a ghost. He tried to ignore it. Thinking that way would just make you crazy. Make you want to put your fist through something.

              The dreams he’d been having lately. Make you even crazier. They faded like fog the way it burns off in the morning sun; but he remembered enough. That in his dreams, he was with the Dean from Before, doing things- things that made him blush in the daylight, just thinking about them. Shit, made him hot and ashamed and wondering if he was not only crazy but a fucking perv, too- and what the hell was next in that scrambled up omelet he was cooking in his noggin.

               Knew that maybe he should admit to himself he wanted it, too. _Obviously_ , he thought, with an audible snort; it _was_ _his_ subconscious, _his_ dream, _his_ kinky-ass thoughts about getting it on with his big brother. Jesus Christ, he knew they had a pretty unhealthy relationship since childhood, and he was pretty good at avoidance and denial- in their line of work, you’d better be or you were on your way straight to a rubber room- but this? _This?_ Did he miss the old Dean so much he had to imagine – this? Fuck, it was confusing. His natural coping technique of repression kicked in and he put the thoughts away. Far, far away. Forever, he hoped.

                Dealing with Dean was infinitely easier, though. They could communicate, although crudely. Dean was not a drooling vegetable, thank fuck. Sam even held out hope he could rehabilitate Dean; get him walking, talking, something like what he was. Before the _(war?)_ that ended everything.

                He gingerly poked at the memory until the stinging rose up into a red hot throbbing behind his eyes.  The angels were falling.  He was there- at the church with Dean. Sick. God, sicker than he’d ever been before and ready to just do it, finish the damn trial. Through the haze of pain, he saw Dean bust in through the doors, telling him to stop. Begging him.  

                He’d wanted to finish it, even after Dean told him it would kill him. He just wanted to do- _One. Fucking. Thing. Right._ For Dean. Who’d done so much for him. From the time he was six months old. Watching his back, protecting him, sacrificing everything – _god, his life_ , for him. No matter what fuck up Sam did, Dean always took him back. _Always._ Because Sam tried. Oh, God he tried. He never had anything but the best intentions, but whether it was destiny or pure bad luck, it was one clusterfuck after another.

                And there was Dean. Again. Watching out for Sam. Again- and they huddled by the car in the dark and watched the angels rain down.

…

                “Sam.” Dean barked from where Sam had put him; sitting in a dusty armchair.

                “Jus’ a sec, man.” Sam said, packing their duffels. He wanted to get them out of there. The confines of the room were too much. He’d taken all he could, being surrounded in this small space, even though he wanted to give Dean some comfort, but no- no more. Had to get the hell out of there and hit the road. Needed to be on the road where they were safe and moving.

                “Map, Sam. Go map.”

                “Huh?” Sam turned to him, finally paying attention.”What’s that?”

                Dean gestured with his right hand, fumbling. “Map, Sam! Go map.”  He was looking at Sam, struggling to say more, but finally giving up in frustration. He sighed loudly.

                Comprehension dawned on Sam. He knelt down in front of Dean, hoping he was right.

                “You think we should go get a map?”

                Dean nodded, smiling. He gestured again.

                “Go-“, he paused, correcting himself,”— _Get a map_ , Sam.” Grinning now.

                It occurred to Sam suddenly, of course. _We need a map, figure out where we are, how to get where they were going  (-Colorado. Although he wasn’t really sure why he was taking them there. Just that they had to do it. No question._ _)_ Then he got an even better idea.

                “Yeah, Dean, you’re right. Listen-I think we should go to a library.”  When Dean screwed his face up in confusion- or was it doubt?-Sam said, “We can get a road atlas there and I wanna research places in Colorado where we might find survivors-“

                It wasn’t until he voiced it that Sam understood why he needed to take them there. Hell, he didn’t even really know why he thought there was anyone left. Saying it out loud sounded stupid, even to him.

                “Sam?” Dean croaked.

                “I know,” Sam said,”it sounds like a crazy idea, Dean, but hear me out. I know we haven’t seen anyone – people- and there’s no evidence there is anyone left – but Dean, I think- I mean, I feel it - like we need to go there. That there might be people there.”

                He got up and paced, like he always did when he felt agitated or was thinking through a problem.

                “Aw, Sammy, no-“

                Dean looked at him with compassionate eyes. Sam knew he was thinking Sam was off his rocker and possibly delusional.

                “We don’t know there’s nobody left, Dean.”

                Dean just looked at him, sadly.

                “Sammy-“

                If possible, he looked even sadder.

                _Was this how it was gonna be? Dean always questioning him, now?_ After he fucking proved himself – that he could do right by Dean, take care of him, keep him alive and kicking- _now_ he was gonna second guess him? Yeah, he was getting pissed off.

                “We should at least fucking _try_ , Dean; what’s the harm in that? Just try. We get up there and it’s a bust, then so help me, you can give me shit about it forever; I don’t care- but now? Can’t you go with me on this? Please?” He stood in front of Dean, hands planted on his hips, waiting for the buy-in from his brother. Because god knew, if Dean wasn’t on board, it would be one hell of a miserable trip. “What do you say, Dean. Will you back me on this?”

                Dean heaved a sigh, looked down and then back up again. He wasn’t smiling, but the scowl was gone. He just looked resigned.  “Yeah, Sam. Okay.”

                Sam was energized. Now this was a plan. Good; something that made sense. They always did better when they had a plan. Plan A; go to Library. Get a map. Research Colorado. Make a new Plan A. He felt better already. The crushing weight of the room eased somewhat.

                “Hey Dean,” he turned, “You know- I wanna check out some stuff about physical therapy – for you, so-“

                Dean let out a rude sound and scowled. Sam thought he might cramp an eyebrow, they were knitted together so hard. Apparently, he really hated the idea because he started up a chant, _fuck no, Sam, fuck no_ \- that Sam could see might escalate if he didn’t nip it in the bud, pronto.

                “Don’t start that shit, man,” he said with annoyance, holding Dean by the arms and looking eye to eye. “I want to help you any way I can. I need you to try, Dean – because I need for you to get better. _I need this, don’t you get it?”_ He was shaking Dean more than was necessary; noticed and let go like he’d touched a live wire.

                Dean looked at him, eyes wide.

                 “Okay Sammy, “he whispered. “Okay.”

…

                 They drove aimlessly around Meridian for what seemed like forever, until Sam saw a small sign with the library icon and an arrow, which eventually, after several missed turns, led to a large, three story building fronted on one side in panes of glass. All the windows were still intact, although the trees and shrubs were horribly overgrown and what was once a lawn was now a grassy field with several immature live oaks taking hold. Sam rolled the Range Rover up to the front doors and craned his head out the open window.

                  “Well, here it is.” He said more to himself than to Dean. “I guess we go in and make ourselves comfortable.”

The double doors didn’t yield to his attempts at lock picking and he was rusty as hell, - no mystery there, so Sam broke a side window and crawled in. He appeared on the side of the building, where an office door led to the outside. Moving the vehicle closer, Sam managed to get Dean hop/shuffled into the building.

                   “Fuck, Dean,” he panted with exertion.” We have _got_ to get you walking better. Gonna kill me-“

                   He made Dean wait there and disappeared though a door leading into the library, only to come back a minute later pushing a wheelchair.

                   “Check it out! I saw this through the doors- ,” Sam laughed and pulled Dean’s arm, attempting to help him to the chair, but Dean was resisting – pulling back with strength he hadn’t shown to Sam before.

                   “No, Sam-“His brow was wrinkled in anger. “Fuck – no!”

                    Sam kept trying to tug on Dean’s arm.

                    “It’s no biggie, Dean, really- just,-“

                     Dean twisted, nearly taking them both down. Sam dropped his hands and stood back.

                     “Dean. Get in the chair.” He crossed his arms. Glaring at Dean.

                     “No, Sam.” Staring Sam down. Lips tight, eyes narrowed.

 _As stubborn as the Old Dean had ever been_.

                      “Get in the fucking chair, Dean. I’m not kidding.”

                      Dean spoke, enunciating carefully.

                      “Fuck-you. Bitch.”

                      The air between them was silent for a beat. Then two.

                      “Dammit, that’s it-“

                      Sam threw himself at Dean, wrapping his arms around his waist, trying to turn and lift him bodily, into the wheelchair. Meanwhile Dean was twisting himself right and left, flailing his arms up in defiance, managing to somehow resist Sam’s attempts for at least a few seconds, before Sam finally gained ground and more or less tossed him into the chair. They were both red faced and breathing heavily.

                      “What the fuck was that? It’s just a god damned wheelchair, Dean!” He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Fuck-“

                      Dean was still scowling. Looking away, with a look of intense anger on his face. He turned one way, then the other, not looking at Sam.

                      “Well, I don’t give a shit what you think. This is gonna make it a lot easier to haul your ass around in here, you big baby.”

                      Sam turned the chair and wrapping his arms under Dean’s and around his chest, settled him more upright. He grabbed the handles and pushed him out the office door.

                      The interior of the library was bright and open. Dusty, yeah, but Sam inhaled the smell of books and paper, and he was instantly transported to his childhood. _Spent lotta hours in the stacks_ , he thought. It was his sanctuary. _A place to pretend that it wasn’t his life- that he could be something different_. He laughed dryly.

                       _Look where I ended up - back at the library with my nose in a book-_

                       A layer of dust coated everything, but otherwise, it looked untouched- no bodies visible, no evidence of animals, and no violence. He felt his heart rate calming as the fight-or-flight response was overridden.

_Gotta check it out, though. Always gotta check it out first._

                       “Dean, stay here- I’m gonna go look around. Be quick. Sit tight.” He ordered, and swiftly swept the place for signs of danger. When he returned, he settled Dean and then left again to explore.

                       Sam took hours. Leaving Dean to nap on a sofa, he found a road atlas, books on Colorado, travel and topography, and best of all, several medical books on rehabilitation and occupational therapy. Sam went over to Dean and gently woke him.

                      “Hey, man. Wake up. Dean-“He shook his shoulder. Dean looked peaceful. Untroubled. It hurt to wake him.

                      “Sam—“

                      “Uh. Hey. We need to talk.” He sat on the floor, elbow on the sofa cushion.

 _Look at him. This is hard. Fuck_.

                “Dean, we really need to talk about something.”

                Fully awake, Dean looked concerned and struggled to sit upright. Sam hushed him and pressed him back down- murmuring _its okay, easy._

“Listen. I’ve been doing a lot of reading,” he began. “ I’m not sure, but anyway- no easy way to put this, but-you have a lot of the same symptoms as a stroke victim; the loss of strength,  the way you can’t walk, your poor coordination, and the weakness in your arms and legs-“

                _Oh god, he gets it. He knows what it means. Scared. God, Dean-_

                 “-The lack of balance, and the -and the mental confusion – the way you can’t speak and sometimes can’t understand when I speak—“

                He reached out and grabbed Deans nervous fingers, stroking them gently.

                “A stroke is when there’s a loss of bloodflow to the brain- there’s not enough oxygen to the cells of the brain-  and -there can be permanent damage if enough braincells die-“

                _Scared. There’s no Cas coming to heal this one-_

                “I know I’m not a doctor, and I could be way off base here, but from everything I’ve read, it looks like you had a major stroke, at least that’s the closest I could find to what’s wrong, Dean. There’s –oh god, Dean. There’s -no guarantee of a full recovery. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-”

                _That can’t be true, please don’t let that be true-_

                 ” But I promise you-“

_Oh fuck, Dean ,god, it’s breaking my heart, goddamn it-_

                 “-If I have to read everything ever written,-Dean, I swear- I swear-I’m gonna do everything I can to help you, Dean. We’ll fight this, I swear, we’ll fight this, -exercises- therapy, whatever it takes. I promise you!”

_He’s trying to hold it together. Always so strong, Dean-_

                 At that moment, he felt himself start to crack open. The tears pricked behind his eyes and he looked at Dean, and Sam was scared for him- because he knew why. He cursed God, that sadistic bastard, for giving Dean his awareness back, just in time to learn he might never recover – might end up staying this way. Forever.

…

 

 

 

.

 


	11. Chapter 11-Pity Party for One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets drunk and feels sorry for himself. Dean comes in a dream with a few words of wisdom, and Sam is unable to keep his hands off him - but which Dean is he really wanting? Angsty and sexy.

Chapter 11- Pity Party for One

 

               Sam was drunk. Shit faced drunk.

               Dragged them both back to the motel. Folded the motherfucking wheelchair and threw that into the back of the Rover along with the books and shit and headed back. Stopped only to break into a liquor store

_( I found a liquor store- and I drank it-ha ha ha remember that, Cas? Where the hell are you? Need you, Cas.)_

and loaded up on Jack and Glenlivet and Patron and fuck all what else, and wanted to just drown in it.  

                “Deean-“

                _Look at me, Dean, you fuck._

                “Dean. Know ya hear me-“

                _He just lays there. Acting like he’s deaf. I know, though. Know he’s hurting. Fuck, shouldn’t have told him anything. Why did I tell him anything? Serves no purpose. Great job, Sam, you stupid fuck._

                “So sorry, Dean. Sorry. M’not a good brother. M’not. Never was.”

                He poured another glass, spilling it, not able to focus on things too well- but that was good. Maybe he could forget if he drank a little more.  Let himself pretend they were back in the old days. Bobby’s.  Bobby- Jesus, missed him so much.

                “Don’t listen t’me , Dean, ya know I’m so full a shit- don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’ half the time and I’m crazy as shit- don’t listen t’me, kay? Kay, man? – hey- Hey! Come on, Dean- “

                _Not gonna look at me now, I don’t blame you. I fucked up, man. I  fucked up._

                “Jesus, Dean – I’m sorry, kay? I’m sorry! Okay? “

                Drank the liquor in two swallows and it burned. That’s alright. He needs it. Anything to help him sleep, to forget. Was this better than when he was dragging around a half-dead body? No, hell no it wasn’t .  He thought they were getting better- Dean coming back to life and talking and shit and no- now they were just hurting. No. Not fucking better. Wish it never happened. Then Dean wouldn’t know how screwed they were. Fuck everything. So  tired of it all. Why couldn’t it just fucking _end_? Please God, please let it end. Please. _Please._

                He got up and went to the bed where Dean was laying, his eyes open, staring at the wall.

                “Dean-“

                Sam’s voice broke, and Dean turned his head, looking at his brother- his expression closed and unreadable. Sam knelt down and put his head on the bed, hot tears leaking from his eyes.

                “Don’t want ya to hate me, Dean. Please. Don’t hate me.”

                Sam felt a hand on his head. Combing fingers in his hair.

                “Be okay, Sammy.”

                Sam felt his tears coming harder. The tears of a drunk man; awful, wracking tears full of remorse and pain. He reached over and grabbed Dean’s shirt, clutching like a lifeline. Something to keep him grounded because he felt he could just slip away. Lose himself – slip back into the desert of insanity where he’d wandered for so long.

                He climbed up into the bed, next to Dean, wrapping his arms around him, gripping him tightly. Felt Dean struggle to lift his arm to embrace him. _See? He is getting better, isn’t he? Please God, tell me he’s gonna get better_.  Sam tried to get even closer.

                “Sammy. S’okay.”

                “I’m tryin’ Dean. Tryin’ so hard. Fuck – sorry. I’m drunk.  But- I love you, Dean. Love you so fucking much. Don’t wanna let you down. So sorry.”

                “Sleep, Sammy, ‘kay? Sleep.”

                He felt the gentle patting of Dean’s hand on his arm. Like a lullaby, easing him down. He was always safe with Dean. Nothing ever gonna happen with Dean here- ‘cause he’s got him. He’s got him-

…

                He was outside. Standing under the stars. The moon was bright and he leaned against the Range Rover, drinking from the bottle in his hand. He was drunk. He let himself sit down, leaning against the tire. Just for a minute, he decided, then he’ll go back in.

                A figure was walking across the parking lot. A man. As he walked under the yellow streetlight Sam could see his leather jacket, the glint of the amulet he wore around his neck. Dean.

                Dean walked over and reached down for Sam’s arm, pulling him up.

                “This isn’t gonna solve anything, Sunshine. Gimme that.” He grabbed the bottle and tilted it up, taking a couple of deep swallows. “Damn, that’s top shelf.”

                He tossed the bottle into the bushes and brushed off his hands.

                “Dean, you don’t understand.”

                “Looks to me like you’re out here feeling sorry for yourself, Sam.”

                “Really? Well, it’s none of your fucking business what I do.”

                Dean raised his brows.  He slipped his hands in his jacket pockets and leaned on the Range Rover.

                “I think it is my business, especially since I’m depending on you. You gonna let me lay in that motel room  waiting until you decide to get your head out of your ass and do what needs to be done? How is that not my business?”

                “ _You’re not even_ _real_ , _Dean!_ Think I’m gonna tuck my tail between my legs and roll over for a fucking hallucination? Not fucking likely.”

                “Oh, this is rich, you know that? I’m getting better- _every god damned day_ \- and instead of you being happy about it, you’re playing pity party for Sammy?  Well, I’ve had enough.”

                Sam looked down at the ground.  Now even his hallucination was pissed off at him.

                “Yeah, I’m pissed – but only because this isn’t like you, Sam. You’re stronger than this. You’ve got to fight it. Fight back to get where you used to be. Damn it. I know you can do this. We have so much farther to go and you can’t pussy out on us already. Jesus.”

                “I think you might have had a stroke.”

                “I hear.”

                “You might never get better, Dean.”

                “Yeah? Well, I’ve been through some pretty intense shit that nobody thought I’d ever get through and I did. Didn’t I?”

                Hell, yeah, that was true enough. Was it insane of him to doubt Dean could make it back from a stroke when he’d come back from Hell, clawed himself out of Purgatory?

                “Don’t ever doubt me, Sammy. I’m telling you- there’s a reason we made it this far. Somebody wants us alive, and by God, or whoever- we’re staying alive. And I have no fucking intention of doing it as an incapacitated cripple. You hear me?”

                “Yeah, I hear you.”

                “No, it’s not gonna be easy. Nothing ever is for us, but you know that. Hey. Hey-c’mere-“

                Dean reached up and put his hands around Sam’s face.

                “Look at me, Sammy- you can do this. You’re gonna help me get better – and I _will_ get better. Gonna make me do those exercises and all that rehab shit you read about and I promise you, _I promise you-_ I’m gonna make it. You’ll see. Just don’t give up on us, okay? Hey- okay?”

                Sam reached under Dean’s jacket and slid his arms around him. He felt real. Felt the warmth, the play of the muscles of his back as he embraced Sam.  Why can’t he be real? Sam needed him so much. Wanted to have Dean like this so badly. He laid his head down alongside Dean’s, into the crook of his neck – breathing the scent of him; leather and sweat and _Dean_.

                “Need you so much, Dean. Miss you.”

                “I know, Sammy. I know.”

                “Just want you to get better. Worry about you-“

                Dean stroked his hands reassuringly up and down Sam’s back. Pulled him closer.

                “I’ll always be here for you, Sammy. Never gonna leave you. C’mon, now.”

                Sam kissed his neck, inhaling him- kissed him again softly, tasting the salty trace on his skin.

                “Make me feel so good, Dean. Always-“

                Then he was kissing Dean, mouth open, gentle. Wanting him again like he had before – without the guilt. No wrongness here- just love and need and sharing the pain so it would all go away. Letting Dean soothe his hurts like he always did and replace them with his strength and love.

                “Getting all chick flick on me again, aren’t we?”

                Dean chuckled, but Sam knew he didn’t mean it because Dean was under his t-shirt, running his hands up his chest, playing across his nipples then, making him inhale sharply and arch his hips, needing contact.

                “Touch me, Sammy.” He pulled Sam’s hand down to cover him.

                Sam felt the hard length of Dean- how he groaned at his touch, needing Sam just as much, and Sam stroked him through the denim, wanting to make it good for Dean, - give him something back, the way Dean always gave to him.

                “Oh fuck, Sam- yeah, please.” Dean rocked into Sam’s hand. “fuck, Sammy-ohfuck- Sammy-”

\---

                Sam lifted his head, and he wasn’t outside anymore.

                He was in Dean’s bed, his hand on Dean, stroking him. _Not a dream, then._

“Fuck, Sammy-“ Dean moaned, barely audible.

                Sam’s face was buried in Dean’s neck- and he kissed him, sucked hard on a spot and made Dean groan aloud. This is what he wanted – the real Dean. Real neck, real mouth, real cock. He stroked him, squeezing. Felt Dean respond, trying to arch into his hand.

                “Want more, Dean?- need more?” Sam murmured, low and husky against Dean’s throat. Squeezing as he asked it.

                “Sammy. Yeah-“

 It came out like a sigh, his plead for more. “oh fuck-“

                With fumbling fingers, Sam opened Dean's jeans, pushed them down, turned on by the sight of Dean laying there before him, eyes wide and liquid, his mouth a ripe invitation- panting little breaths, little moans of want.

                “It’s okay, Dean, gonna take care of you. Make you feel so good-“

                Sam leaned over, pressed his mouth to Dean’s, let his tongue explore gently, then with a low moan, opened him deeply- making Dean take it. Owning him. His hands slipped under the elastic of his boxers, slid along the heat of his cock- lower, cupped his balls and gently tugged them until Dean was breathless and panting.

                “Sammy-“

                “I know- I know- get these off you, make you feel so much better.”

                Sam moved down and pulled off Dean’s jeans and boxers. Maybe it was the alcohol- fuck , no doubt it was the alcohol- but Sam felt no hesitation or self consciousness. Just need, and want. He pushed Dean’s shirt up, baring his chest, and kissed him, running his mouth over Dean’s nipples, making them tighten into hard peaks. Dean sucked in his breath sharply, making Sam chuckle and bite at them, flicking them with his tongue.

                “God, Dean- so fucking hot. Always wanted you like this. Make me so fucking crazy.”

                He circled Dean with his hand, stroking him; thumbed the precum from the head of his cock and around and around the ridge until Dean was shaking.  He reached down and grabbed Dean’s leg behind the knee and pulled it up, spreading his legs apart. Dean moaned a low, “Sammy—“

                “Love to hear you call my name. Want to hear you call my name when you come, Dean.”

                “Oh, god- Sammy, yeah-“

                “Look at you, Dean- Look at you laying there- god, so beautiful-I wanna taste you. Can, I? Want me to?”

                Dean arched into his hand, his head thrown back- lost in it, now. A sheen of sweat covered him and Sam thrilled knowing he did this- made Dean want. And want. And want.

                “Should I swallow you down?- take you in my mouth and suck you till you come?  God, yeah, make you come so hard-“

                He licked across Dean’s stomach, watching the muscles jump in response. He dipped his tongue into Dean’s navel, licking around it and putting his tongue in, watching Dean as he made a little high pitched, _ahh_ , and then a long, low moan as Sam licked his way lower, nuzzling in the thatch of hair at the base of his cock.

                _Teasing you. Make you insane for it. Can feel how much you like it- how much you want it._

                Sam licked along the shaft of his cock, then took him into his mouth. He thought _I’m sucking him.  I’m sucking him and he’s loving it. Needing it._

He sucked gently, moving his head up and down- Dean’s cock slipping in and out; wet, slippery and like velvet. Musky and male and all _Dean_. Little sounds of need escaped from Dean, and when Sam slipped a finger lower and circled his hole, he heard Dean’s little sounds became loud and needy.

                Sam pressed a little, barely penetrating Dean. The effect was electric. Dean moaned, his neck arching and Sam felt the clench of the muscle around his finger. He sucked harder, then pulled off, his finger moving oh so slowly in and out, barely inside.

                “Look so good like this, fuck. You like that, baby?”

                Pushed a little further in.

                ”Want a little more of that?” He said, teasing and dirty.

                “Ohh. Sam-fuck-“

                Dean tightened around his finger and Sam lowered his head, sucking him again but harder- more suction, tongued along the head and into the slit. Slipped his finger in deeper and pumped it gently but firmly. Finger and mouth working till he was on the brink, - the tension in his muscles so tight, and thought, _I’m making him come_.

                “Sammy, god, Sammy-“

                Dean came in throbbing waves, and Sam could feel the pulsing around his finger as he swallowed him down. He pushed it in and out, letting Dean ride out his orgasm as he shook with release. _What I needed, what you needed_ , he thought to himself, moving to lay alongside Dean.

                Sam put his arms around Dean, head against his on the pillow. Dean breathing normally, almost. Sated. He kissed the side of his face- tender, gentle.

                “S’gonna be alright, Dean. You’ll see. Promise. Not gonna let you down. Never let you down.”

                “Yeah, Sammy.” He sighed. “Tired-“

                 “Sleep now. It’s gonna be okay.”

                 …

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? Too porny? It's sometimes hard to decide whether to keep the sex explicit or leave more to the imagination. 
> 
> Sam and Dean have quite a journey ahead of them; and don't worry, Dean IS getting better. Maybe it's his angelic connection, but he's healing fast. They're getting back on the road and will soon discover just what's left of the world- and why they managed to survive.
> 
> I haven't received many comments, so I'm either a boring writer, or doing well enough that you don't need to flog me with nastygrams. I thank you again for the kudos and for reading. xoxo


	12. Chapter 12- Piggies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam goes hunting. For food. Not something he's done in a long, long time. And thinks a little about Dean.

Chapter 12- Piggies

 

                He was sitting in a makeshift blind, the rifle held loosely in his hands. After the first shock of seeing the small herd of pigs crossing the street in front of the library, the second thought Sam had was _fresh meat_ , and he instantly felt his mouth salivating at the mental image of meat sizzling and fat popping and _oh man_ , he knew immediately that he was going hunting.

                The last time Sam had been on a hunting trip for anything other than a monster or some kind of hellspawn, he was 13, and Bobby had taken them out to bag a deer. Sort of a _here’s what normal people do, kids_ kind of thing.  He’d hated it. Sitting in the bone-chilling cold for hours, and the inevitable sadness seeing the bloody, lifeless deer laying there with its empty eyes going cloudy– making him think of the thin thread between living and dying. He’d been so excited to be deer hunting with Bobby; feeling grown up and imagining himself a man _(putting meat on the table)-_ yet, when confronted with the reality, - the deer, just moments before so alive and vital and then so obviously empty of any spark of life; not a deer anymore, more like a facsimile of a deer- well, it was his last hunt. Of that kind, anyway. Dean, on the other hand? Perfectly okay with it.

                Now he thanked God _(the phrase still rankled him, although he used the hell out of it lately)_ that there was wild game to be had. He knew he must be improving, mentally, since it even occurred to him that he could hunt for fresh meat. Wandering for so long - scrabbling for food in houses and falling down groceries- why the fuck hadn’t he decided to do this before? Then he shook himself –

_Duh. You’re Captain of Team Crazy, dude._

_-_ But not too crazy to not set himself up in this blind, waiting for the pack of six or seven feral pigs to pass through the area. He’d seen them twice already, and after the second time, it was a no brainer. He was killing one. Today.

                The bad thing was, he forgot how fucking boring it was, just sitting there, waiting on your quarry to show up so you could waste it. He was used to this part. Well, he used to be. On hunts, Dean would sit there, making crude, stupid jokes, one after another- ones he’d heard a thousand times before-until he wanted to shoot _him_ full of rock salt. Always kept him distracted though. Passed the time. When it was the dead of night and you were freezing your balls off and praying for the goddamned monster to show up so you could fucking kill it already- then go have a shower and a pizza- Dean managed to remind you that it was all fucking worth it. They were gonna gank the sucker and save someone’s life. It made perfect sense. Dean usually made it bearable.

                 Fuck yeah, he could practically taste fried pork chops. _Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, here_ , he thought, trying to keep alert with an eye on the lawn in case the pigs showed up. No sense all this boring waiting only to miss the opportunity. Man, he was rusty. He was a little embarrassed about that. Letting his skills atrophy- not that he didn’t have an excuse _(dingdingding, crazytown, collect your prize)_ but fuck, he was Sam Fucking Winchester. Jesus.

He was gonna chop that sucker up and cook the hell out of some pork, and maybe Dean would grin a little and he could already see him, juice and melted fat running down his chin. He’d like to see that. Missed Dean’s little smiles.

                He wasn’t smiling too much the last couple of days. Ever since their “morning after” (and he even put air quotes around that word in his own mind), Dean was quiet and withdrawn. Not that he was difficult or bitchy, really. More like he just wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes too easily and he drew back a little as soon as he could when Sam helped him into the bathroom or with his clothes.

                Well, no shit, it was easy to see he was freaked out. And not a little. Pretty much as in Lost His Shit freaked about it. Which he could understand. He felt bad about it. Not that they had sex, he didn’t regret that for a minute- god, no. But yeah, knowing Dean; knowing how hung up he was on the whole Protect Sammy thing – it was inevitable he was going to deal with it badly.  Because no matter how much Dean wanted something, whether it was his own happiness with a life outside of hunting, or a family, or Sam- he’d give it up in an instant if he thought for one second that it would hurt Sam. Their whole fucking relationship was one twisted ball of want and need. How many times had Sam said the words, _I want/ I need_ or _you want/ you need?_ It was a two sided coin that they just kept passing back and forth since he was sixteen.

                But here’s the thing.

                Sam knew – he knew like he knew his own name, that Dean was freaked because he wanted it just as much as Sam did. Maybe more.  It was something unspoken between them. Something you never took out in the daylight and examined- but yeah, when you’re living practically in the back pocket of your brother for your entire life, you’re going to see things- know things. When your brother comes home drunk at night after a date and recounts how he touched her pussy and let her blow him and grins when you get hard; when his eyes linger just a bare instant too long on you when you’re walking around in your boxers after a shower; when he jacks himself at night, knowing you can hear him in the other bed, getting hard and jacking yourself right along with him. Yeah. You kind of put two and two together and come up with something that makes you hot sick with desire and twisted with guilt. Not to mention a dollop of shame on top.    

                When they were teenagers he put it down to youthful hormones. That’s what he told himself for a long time, because, Christ, if he ever really confronted it, he’d have to admit they were so beyond fucked up- maybe beyond redeeming. Anyway, it was all loaded phrases and heated looks and homo jokes between them – and Dean?  The master at compensating.

                He was still trying to deny it. From the moment he woke up, he was denying. Sam could see it in the turn of his head and the shy smile that faded, replaced by the familiar knitted brow he cultivated.  How he sighed and looked down at his naked legs and back up to Sam’s eyes and slowly shook his head back and forth with a look that plainly said; _it was wrong, Sammy, no more._ Fuck he could have killed him.

Naturally, Sam tried to talk about it, which was pretty much pointless, of course, but he continued until he could see Dean shutting down, little by little until he was just sitting there, staring out into space. Fuck, Sam wondered, do we just pretend it never happened? (Which he really, really didn’t want). But honestly- without Dean on board, there was no way they were gonna Brokeback Mountain this relationship.

                At least he was going along with the set of exercises and home brewed therapy Sam came up with from the stack of books he carted back from the library. If nothing else, their little midnight sexcapade had jarred something loose in his grapefruit because he was already better at moving and getting around; shuffling heavy-footed to the bathroom and back, just calling a hoarse, _Sammy,_ when he needed his pants undone or zipped up.

                And Sam was a harsh taskmaster- acting more like a shoulder to lean on, forcing Dean to work harder, and his reward was seeing Dean slightly pissed, but moving more under his own steam.  Little things, like taking him outside and strolling him oh so slowly around the parking lot to get his legs used to the movement of walking- it was amazing that he was making such great progress in two days- and Dean’s exhausted sigh of satisfaction when they made it back to the room and the bed- well, Sam felt his heart swell so much he had to step out so as to not lose his shit where Dean would see it and get all embarrassed. He still had that damned pride of his.

                Shit. There they were. The hogs. Wandering into the overgrown lawn like a little cadre of bandits; snorting and snuffling with their heads down, rooting at the base of the oak trees. Sam worked to keep his breath shallow and quiet, and slowly brought up the rifle, taking aim at the smallest of the pigs. His shot took it down, and the rest scattered in all directions, gone in an instant. The surge of adrenaline was equal to taking down a Wendigo, he noted absently. The tingling running through his body was only matched by the stupid grin he felt growing on his face until he was laughing – long and loud, with his head thrown back and his fist pumping into the air in triumph.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not an expert at rehabilitation or occupational therapy. Please forgive any mistakes.  
> thanks for reading :)


	13. Chapter 12- One More Makes Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean killed the pig, and now they eat like kings. Then, during a stop for gas, Sam picks up a passenger.

Chapter 13 – One More Makes Three

             They were back on the road, heading west. Sam was driving with his elbow hanging out the window, reveling in the sensation of having the wind against his skin; tickling the hairs on his forearm. _You get so spoiled with the little things_ , he thought. 

              They were listening to Queen’s Greatest Hits on CD, although Dean had scrunched his face like he’d eaten a moldy peanut or something when he popped it in and whined, _Awww, Sam, noooo_.   _Ha! -yeah, right , after I had to hear the old driver/cakehole bit for years- sit the fuck still and shut YOUR cakehole, bitch_ – although he flashed him a grin as he said it.

               They’d hit the road soon after their impromptu pig roast. The plan was to move from room to room in the motel, sleeping in a “fresh” one as they dirtied up the last one, because hey, toilets plus no running water equaled nasty no matter how you sliced it.

               When Sam came back with the pig, he butchered it right there on the motel room table, blood and entrails everywhere- and frankly, as he sat back, bloody smears on his face where he’d been wiping off the sweat- he felt kind of appalled that it didn’t even occur to him to do the butchering outside or on site.  It scared him a little that he had so much trouble being Sam Winchester again. The Before Sam would have been mortified at the idea of gutting a 50 pound pig on a kitchen table. Now, all Sam thought was how to keep the bloody bits off his pants so they didn’t stink later. It was – worrying.

               On the upside, Dean was fucking _elated_.  When Sam burst through the door, he thought Dean was gonna have a heart attack, he was so startled, but when Sam burst out, _Killed a pig!,_ Dean’s face broke into a grin and he shuffled over as fast as he was able, -and they stood over the trophy, oohing and aahing at the black, hairy pig laying on the table.

               Sam smiled to himself, thinking of the afternoon they spent in the Wal-Mart parking lot. Sam found a grassy spot in the shade and deposited Dean in a folding chair, then disappeared inside, coming back with the tailgating party mother lode;  grill, charcoal, paper plates, cups, drinks, barbeque sauce- you name it. They spent the rest of the day, drinking a little whiskey out of paper cups and cooking as much of the pig as they could, and if some of it was a little charred or bloody, it didn’t matter because it was fucking _amazing_ – and Sam hadn’t felt so full or so good in- ever.

               “Dean. I can’t believe you are still eating, dude. What are you, fucking bottomless?” he grinned over at Dean, who was sitting there with a Tupperware of barbeque on his lap and sauce smeared on fingers and all over his mouth. Fucking adorable. He wanted to pull over and kiss it off him.

               “Go bad, Sam” Dean lifted a corner of his mouth and shrugged a little. His movements were still rusty.

               “Hey, don’t worry about it, knock yourself out. I picked up some antacid just in case one of us had indigestion.” He tapped the wheel in time to the music. “Figured we might have problems since we’re not be used to eating fresh meat, y’know?”

                Which proved prophetic, because about a half hour later, Dean was clutching his belly and moaning, and Sam had to stop and give him a Zantac and some water. Jesus, just like a kid. But secretly, it made him feel good that he could take care of Dean and baby him a little, and he didn’t feel the slightest bit of resentment doing it. Fuck. He _was_ turning into a girl, wasn’t he?

                They drove all day, passing stalled cars and massive wrecks with blackened vehicles where people had tried escaping the Croats in panic. It really brought him down when he started thinking about it, to the point that his thoughts became bleak and so fucking dark that he had to consciously lock box the crap and focus on the road- and Dean, sitting there happily tapping out the beat to Fat-Bottomed Girls.

                “Hey Dean-“

                Dean grunted a _huh?,_ eyeing the road, tapping his knee.

                “Those books said singing was a great exercise for getting your language back. Just saying- you wanna sing along, go ahead. Promise not to give you any shit about your suck-ass voice- ‘kay?” It was hard to discern Dean’s reaction behind the sunglasses.

                Must have been okay, because he sang out, loud and horribly off-key, “I – want- to ride- my -bi- cy- cle!-”

                Damn, he sounded like warmed over shit - but it was the sweetest sound Sam thought he’d ever heard.

           ---

               They drove in silence for a long time, just listening to the music. It was pretty bizarre- traveling through the landscape of wrecks and destruction, burnt out buildings and the eerie stillness of the highway- and them rocking to Bowie’s Young Americans turned up to 11. Fucking crazy. Jesus- their lives were unreal.

                Sam was brooding a little bit over Dean.  He tried not thinking about the night they messed around. God knows, it would be a fuck ton easier if he could pretend it hadn’t happened, like Dean was doing. Well, he guessed that’s what Dean was doing. Because he might have stopped putting distance between them, but he was _so_ obviously not responding to Sam when he ran a hand softly along his back or gently leaned over and kissed his shoulder.  Nope. Acted like he didn’t even notice. It was pissing Sam off. What the fuck was he supposed to do, pin him down and kiss him silly? Which, yeah- sounded like a pretty damn good idea.

                He kind of missed the Dean of his dreams right about then. At least the fucker wouldn’t god damn ignore him.

                Hours later, they’d exhausted their supply  of CD’s and were running low on gas, which meant a side trip to a busy parking lot.  The first time Sam had gone off on his own to siphon gas, he’d come back, discouraged and defeated. Practically every car was siphon-proof – the siphon kit he’d picked up at Wal-Mart too big to fit in the hole.  Dean had the solution, use a thinner refrigerator hose, the kind for ice makers, and lo and behold, of course, he was right. Took fucking forever, but they had a practically inexhaustible supply of fuel at their disposal.

                “M’gonna run in and grab some paper towels, you’re a fucking mess. Want anything?”  He said as he pulled into a convenience store lot.

                “Nah. M’good.”

                “A’right. Sit tight. Back in a few-“he grabbed the siphon pump and gas can and left Dean listening to Coldplay.

                 Setting up the siphon at a blue Honda, he went inside the store to see what he could recover.

                The glass was broken out and the doors unlocked, like most places they’d been. Seemed like people just gave up on shit like locking up work, but houses? Totally different thing. Every house he’d ever tried was buttoned up tight, like the tenants were expecting to come back and take up their lives as soon as the crisis was under control. Right. Except there was no _under control_ \- just an escalation of fear and death and fuck- the collapse of everything that made a civilization.

                 Now it was an empty world. Sam and Dean just passing through- witnesses to the last of what was- just two pathetic observers, mourning mankind’s extinction. Sometimes part of him still felt a little like eating that bullet when he thought about it-Dean or no Dean.

                 He stood there, feeling the weight bearing down on him. Standing there- frozen in place- just looking around the empty, dusty store; a sorry example of humanity’s genius and creativity.  _Really? This is the best we could do? Potato chips, beer and chewing gum? Lotto tickets and a hundred different kinds of candy bars? Some damn alien is gonna land here one day and wonder how we lasted this fucking long._

                 Suddenly, it was all too much, and he felt weak in the knees and sank- just sat where he was.

_Got to keep going. Get the game face on, Sammy- nobody’s coming. There’s no rescue. This is it. This is fucking it, man. Me and Dean and the whole fucking world._

                 A lifetime of depending on no one but Dean, and a few years of not even that- he should be used to it. Shouldn’t even be second guessing it. This shit should come naturally, right? Only it didn’t. He played it off for Dean- but fuck, it was getting harder. He wanted to talk to him – needed to unload – but Christ, he thought if he started, he might start crying and never be able to stop.

                 Out of nowhere,  Sam simultaneously heard a wicked snarl and felt himself knocked over- something came up from behind- and he’s grabbing it- a dog- a big fucking dog, -shit- well over a hundred pounds, and Sam’s suddenly in a fucking fight for his life. _Fuck, it’s fast_ , he thinks. The thing’s all sharp teeth,  snapping and biting at him– and he’s got it by the neck,  scrambling to get leverage to keep the fucker off his carotid while he’s at a disadvantage on the floor.

                  The dog’s no novice, and knows to pull back, out of his hands and dart in again, aiming for the soft skin of his neck and his belly and it’s all Sam can do to hold it off long enough to reach for the knife he keeps stuffed in his boot out of habit – thank Christ- and he’s able to stab the fucker, but not until it laid a good one deep in his thigh and Jesus, it keeps coming, wounded and bleeding everywhere, snarling  savagely, teeth red with his blood- hell, they’re both bloody – and Sam finally manages to pin it down and slit it’s throat.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck. It’s deep. Hurts. Fuck-_

                  Breathing heavily, he checks out his leg and oh Jesus, teeth punctures and a little tearing, but no arteries clipped, thank god. Hurts like shit, though and he leans back on one hand to catch his breath.

                  His first thought is _rabies_ – and that makes him shiver with dread, because that’d be a shit way to go. But then, he really looks at the dog-  a big shepherd bitch – _no shit, bitch is right_ \- and he sees the distended teats.  Nursing pups, he thinks, and guesses she was either protecting her pups or – _gross thought_ \- intending on eating him.

                  Sam painfully pulled himself up and made a serious reconnoiter of the store. Finally, in a back storage room he found where the bitch had nested to have her litter. She’d denned in an empty cardboard box, dragging what looked like an old coat in there for bedding. That’s where he found the pup.

                  There was just the one, looking about 4 weeks old, all soft and roly poly- and as Sam lifted it out of the box, he felt his heart break a little because there was still enough humanity in him to stop him from killing the little thing then and there.

                  It was young enough that it put up with his petting and Sam nestled it into the crook of his arm and just ran his hand over and over the soft fur and crooned, _don’t worry little fella, it’s okay, good boy, good boy_ , and he knew at that moment they were no longer a 2-man wolfpack. He stood there, blood running down his leg, thinking sarcastically, _Dean’s just gonna love the fuck out of this_.

                  Sam grabbed a roll of paper towels and a bottle of water from the cooler along with the pup, and went back to the Range Rover. Damn, but Dean was still in there with the music up, oblivious to the fact his brother was nearly eaten by some feral dog. Sam couldn’t help but laugh to himself over that. He went to the passenger side and opened the door.

                  “Sammy. Finally-“and he froze when Sam deposited the pup in Dean’s lap. “Fuck, Sam!”

                  “Ain’t he cute as shit?” He pulled off a few sheets from the paper towels and wiped his face and neck. “His mom just about ended me in there. I was distracted. Okay- Yeah, I  get it.” He finished lamely and shrugged a little when Dean made a little face at the word _distracted._

                  Dean looked at the puppy like it was something he might find on the bottom of his shoe, something stinky or gross.

                  “Dog, Sammy? Uh-uh. No. No way.” He looked like he wanted the dog just. Off. Him. Now.

                  “Dean, I had to kill it’s mother. It’s  basically gonna die if we leave it here-“

                  “So?” Dean scowled at the pup again.

                  Sam stopped and looked at Dean, incredulous.

                  “And what if I had left you to die, Dean?” he stared Dean down until Dean’s eyes broke away. “I recall you were pretty helpless for a long time. I’m doing the best by you, but this. This? I want to keep this dog, alright? I’m not negotiating and that’s that.”

                   Dean shut his mouth and sat back, sullen.

                   “Fucking _dog_ -“

                   “Oh, get your panties out of your ass, he’s just a god damned puppy.”

                   He got up and rummaged for the first aid kit, disinfecting his bites and applying a couple of butterfly bandages. At least it was his left leg, so he could still drive without too much pain. Dean was watching him, worried, but trusting Sam to take care of himself.

                   Sam retrieved the gas can and filled their tank, then made a little place for the puppy to lay in the small space between their seats, a little behind, where he was easily accessible. The pup was nestled among their duffels and the rest of their gear. He seemed contented enough. Dean was still pissy; his lips pressed in a thin line.

                   After a half hour of driving, the puppy started whining and kept trying to come up front, and Sam kept pushing him back with his elbow, but damn it, the little guy was persistent as hell. Finally, the pup managed to squirm past him and landed on Dean’s lap.

                  “ _Oh, Christ_.”

                  Sam just kept driving. Dean was just gonna have to deal with it. They had a dog. Get used to it.

                  He noticed Dean had gathered the pup in his lap and had gone from restraining it to kind of just holding it, to outright petting it. He said nothing, because one thing he could bank on was that Dean wouldn’t appreciate being called out on his tenderness.

                 “Ozzy.”

                 Sam looked over, “Huh?”

                 “Dog’s name. Ozzy.”

                 He kept petting it.

                 Sam looked back at the road. He smiled a little. Just a bit.

                 “Ozzy. Cool. I like it.”

                 He stepped on the gas and opened it up a little, letting the wind catch in his hair and grinned. Ignoring the dull ache in his leg, he leaned back in the seat and let himself feel a little happy.

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this chapter is a little cuddly. I thought we needed it. And the gas siphon thing? Apparently, true. :)  
> xoxo


	14. Chapter 14- Home Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean make it to Colorado, where they search for a suitable place to stay.

Chapter 14-Home Base

 

 

                It took three days of stop and go driving for them to reach the Colorado state line. Sam had veered off the interstates and switched to state and county roads as it became apparent how snarled and blocked the roadways were every time they came close to a metropolitan area.

                It made things a lot easier traveling on the mostly deserted highways, and it was almost like they were back in the Old Days, when they passed small towns and little byways, or a lone diner or gas station out in the middle of nowhere. Sam could almost pretend things were normal. Except for the obvious.

                Dean wasn’t exactly helping.  Sam watched him out of the corner of his eye. When Dean felt an eye on him, which he invariably did, he’d snap his gaze on to Sam, and  something- a look- came over his face. It was hard to read. Maybe anger, maybe a little disgust. All of it disturbing to Sam.

                _He’s thinking about what we did, and not happy about it_ , Sam knew. That bothered the hell out of him because shit- they’d been through so much and yeah- they crossed a line- Sam admitted that much to himself – but fuck- if they could talk about it, come to terms with what it meant, maybe that would help heal this rift he could feel opening between them like a chasm. But no. Dean wasn’t himself in a whole lotta ways anymore, but in this, he was the same. Don’t talk about it. Deny it to the end. Sam sighed inwardly and just kept driving.

                Once Dean had named Ozzy, he pretty much appropriated him, letting him ride on his lap and making Sam stop every few hours so they could let them all pee- dog included. Sam didn’t even have to make Dean exercise around the Range Rover, because Dean had Ozzy on a makeshift leash and walked him back and forth until the puppy squatted and did his business.  Dean finally made them stop and search for a store that had dog food and all the pet paraphernalia like a collar, leash and bowls- and Ozzy was soon decked out in his stuff looking like a pampered pet.

                Dean had Ozzy on his lap, his hands running across the furry pup when they came to the Welcome to Colorado state line marker. It was like he’d been biding his time just for this moment to pounce, Sam thought, because Dean turned to him and asked in the longest string of words so far, _What’s the plan now, Sam?_

Well, no shit. What _was_ the plan? Because Sam really didn’t know. Beyond a vague, yet persistent impulse to get them there – in the half-formed idea that there were maybe people – survivors- there; Sam had nothing.

                His goal had been to go to Colorado. It sustained him. It gave him the drive to carry on and move forward, but beyond that- the idea of what came next- well, he was well and truly stumped.  That was something he didn’t want to let on to Dean, though. He’d learned that as a kid – you don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing with Dean. You either knew, or you faked it till you made it. Dad had never put up with bullshit, and if he caught you bullshitting him, there was hell to pay. Dean turned out to be a near carbon copy of Dad in that respect. He _always_ had a plan. Okay; that’s bullshit, too- he often didn’t have a plan, Sam had to admit – but he always managed to fake his way through it.              

                Dean was the master at faking it. If they gave degrees for bullshit, he’d have a PhD. Dean was one of those guys that could tell you your face looked like your ass and you’d thank him for it and shake hands afterward. He was just that good. That’s basically why the ladies loved him.  He could be anything they were looking for at the time;  reformed bad boy,  lost soul needing mothering, successful potential sugar daddy, sex god in denim - you name it, he’d be it.

                That’s why he was so utterly convincing in the FBI gag. Sam had done it dozens of times, too, but he never managed to get rid of the butterflies in his stomach. Like any minute they were gonna see through him and his cover was blown. But Dean? Cool as a cucumber. He’d walk in with an attitude of _We’re the government and we’re here to help_ \- and the locals would part like the Red Sea. Like he said to Sam when they were first starting out, _It’s all about confidence, Sammy. If you act like you own the place – they’ll think you really DO own the place. They’ll even hand you the fucking keys._  

                So here they were, sitting in the middle of the lane, Dean staring expectantly at him- and Sam put his game face on and said, “Now we find a place to make our home base. Get settled so we can do some research- plan our next move.”

                Dean grunted an approval, and Sam mentally rolled his eyes, wondering if Dean really bought what was obviously just pulled out of his ass – but O-kay, it worked, so Sam put her into gear and kept driving.

\---

                Sam had been thinking  on this for awhile, and knew the weather was turning- meaning they were in a time crunch. He didn’t want them camping by the side of the road in freezing temperatures. Neither did he want to stay in a crappy motel with sheets that stunk of mold and rot.

                “So Dean, I’ve been thinking.”

                “Yeah…and?”

                “Might take a little time, but I bet we could find someplace where someone wanted to live off the grid, or at least, - I don’t know- solar panels or a windmill or something.  You know? Someplace where we can get some running water and power. Whaddya think?”

                Dean grunted to himself and Sam knew he was mulling it over- trying to see it from all sides and when he finally looked at Sam, he lifted an eyebrow and shrugged.

                “Might work.” He lifted his arm and sniffed his armpit. “Shower, too.”

                “Yeah, well,  lucky for you there’s supposed to be a lake not far from here with a campground- so you’ll have to make do with a bath, I guess.”

Sam had an undeniable urge and reached over to touch his hair, but dropped his hand down to rub Ozzy between the ears instead.  He really wasn’t in the mood for another rejection.

                “I bet we can find someplace.” He said to himself. He was already thinking about how nice it would be to stop for awhile.  He was weary as shit, and the non-stop every day strain was taking its toll on him. Some days he felt like a clock that was slowly winding down. If they could find the right place to stay, maybe he could recharge his batteries. If not, he might just keep slowing until he laid down in the soft grass, looked up to the endless blue sky and let himself float away into nothingness.

                They made it to the campground and got set up- new tent and all. Sam helped Dean to the lakeshore. Dean hated being helped anymore. _He can’t do it himself,_ Sam thought, _so why whine like a bitch when I do what I need to do? Idiot_. Dean managed to walk/drag himself  back from the water’s edge, breathless and grinning, and when Sam got him settled on the sleeping bag, he curled up with Ozzy and was asleep before the sun had set, leaving Sam to wonder how he was going to make something like running water happen.

\---

                The next morning, they drove into the nearest town filling the gas tank and picking up a couple of gallons of bottled water, and in a burst of inspiration, Sam turned into the parking lot of a real estate company. Dean was back to communicating through stares and grunts, so he just muttered, “Back in a sec-“ and jumped out, leaving the motor running.

                Just like he thought, there were stacks of glossy magazines with properties for sale and he even found one called Green Homes For Sale which was just what he was looking for.

                Back in the Range Rover, he passed one to Dean as he leafed through.

                “There are at least a dozen places we can check out not far from here, Dean.  Some of these are totally off the grid.”

                Dean was fumbling with his, trying to turn the pages- halfway getting it.

                “Yeah, definitely- we can find a place that’ll work for us.” Sam said. His voice was getting that little tremor it did when he got really excited about something or when he was knee deep in arcane monster lore.  Dean was back to looking at him, a half smile on his face and he drawled out a - _well?_ \- And Sam thought that maybe getting running water again might not be so impossible after all.

\----

                They’d narrowed it down to three places that were within a 4 hour drive, and had pretty quickly rejected the first two. The first  house they stopped at was on a flat plain, and Dean turned up his nose that there were no trees around and – well, yeah, it was pretty barren, but the house was nice and Sam could have lived there just fine. Anyway- it had to be both their decision, so Sam didn’t put up a fuss, just drove on to the second one.

                It wasn’t nearly as off the grid as it claimed, with municipal water that wasn’t operative, so there was no point in bothering to consider it anymore and they moved on.

                As they drove up the drive to the third house on the list, Sam knew this was the one. Even Dean whistled long and low, and Sam knew he had his fingers crossed. At first view it was perfect.

                 Nestled among the pines with the jagged mountain range in the background, the house was a 2100 square foot geodesic dome framed in wood. As they drove up from the east, two giant picture windows were visible and a three car garage was attached to the house.  From the ad,  there was a well, 12 120 watt solar panels with batteries, a large greenhouse for growing year around vegetables and an attached porch that could store wood for the stove in the winter, so they wouldn’t even need to go outside. It seemed perfect, but until they got inside, Sam would reserve judgement.

                It looked like the place had been vacated to sell, because once they picked the lock and got inside, it was pretty devoid of personal possessions, but was nicely furnished in pricey mission-style furniture and had a big kitchen with expensive stainless steel appliances. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust.

                Dean groaned a sigh of delight when he saw the oversized saltillo tiled bathroom with a giant Jacuzzi tub and a walk in shower.  A downside was the master bedroom on the second floor. Sam knew Dean wouldn’t be able to manage the stairs for a while, so he’d have to sleep in the smaller guest bedroom downstairs. They poked around a little more and Sam was relieved when he found an extensive library on solar systems and repair. Even better, the large pantry was stocked with canned goods and other nonperishables. Anything they needed could be picked up in town and carried back. They could definitely stay here for a while. Maybe for good, Sam thought.

                Standing in the center of the living room, Sam turned to Dean, his brows raised. They could communicate so easily sometimes without a word being said. Dean held his hands out wide and just smiled.

                It seemed like they’d found their home base.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are lots of off the grid properties in Colorado. In my research,I found a few luxury homes which I loved, but might overwhelm the Winchesters, who are at their cores, simple men with simple tastes.


	15. Chapter 15- Wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have a home, but Sam still needs something. He needs Dean. Angst and unrequited love.

Chapter 15-Wanting

 

                It took a good three days to get the power on. When they finally flipped a switch and a light bulb came on, the moment overwhelmed Sam emotionally. He stepped out onto the back deck and slumped in a chair, where he cried his eyes out in relative privacy.

                He stayed out until the last of the sunset faded and the moon came up and the occasional yip of a coyote broke the darkness. He was aware that Dean would come peeking around the corner to check up on him, because shit- he was still as clumsy as fuck and couldn’t sneak up on a 90 year old grandma. But it was nice to know he was there ,worrying- even if Dean wouldn’t bring himself to actually come right out and say it.

                Sam wiped his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve, now all wet and snotty.  When he cried, it wasn’t pretty. Kind of put his whole body into it, Dean always said. Definitely an ugly crier, not like Dean, who could stand there and squeeze out a tear or two and look beautiful- emotional- pretty much invincible.  Fuck- he envied that.

                No.  Sam was always that cliché- In Touch with His Feelings.  Dean ragged him about that for pretty much his whole damn life, and he was right. Sam could always feel his emotions bubbling just below the surface, and he never did much to hide from them, or deny them. Until the end, that is. When he was so fucked up and crazy in his head that he lost all feeling.  All he had left was a sense of purpose- _to save Dean_ \- and he pulled him around on that little cart across half the country doing just that. But not with feelings.  Couldn’t afford them. Not when you had to fucking live in the empty, leftover shit world god had left for you. No.

                So here they were. Two men and a dog. The last remnants of all that was. The thought tore him up inside. The idea that they were it- alone. It just couldn’t be. _Please God,_ he begged,  turning to an entity he hadn’t really believed in for years, anymore.  _Don’t let it end like this._   He didn’t want that. Not even if it was like the jacked up version of Heaven- him and Dean- alone together. He wasn’t ready for that, and he ached with loneliness and despair when he let himself think that maybe- maybe- it really was just the two of them.  If there was a God, he was really fucking with them.

                “Sam-?”

                Dean had finally shuffled out onto the porch, still hidden mostly in darkness.

                “Yeah. M’okay, Dean.”

                He leaned over, wiping the last tears from his eyes. Cried out.

                Sam could hear Dean coming over, and felt the soft caress of his hand through his hair.

                “C’mon- Let’s go.” His hand smoothed over Sam’s hair, and the gentleness of it made Sam feel like crying all over again. _To be finally touched again_. Fuck. Well, there was that, at least.

                He pulled himself up and let Dean lead him inside.

\---

                After a couple weeks of living in the house, Sam could _almost_ – pretend the months _(years? decades?)_ of wandering was just a bad dream.  It was a week of backbreaking work. Sam had stayed up late into the night reading up on solar and electrical systems and getting their power and water back in working order.  He got the propane stove going, and they had a hot dinner every night. Dean showered twice a day.

                There was a horse trailer behind the shed and they hooked it up to the Range Rover and made several trips into town, getting everything and anything they could think of.  It was like walking into a department store and knowing money was no object. They started getting everything they had ever thought they wanted, and it was fun until Dean was standing there holding an oversized giraffe statue, and they looked at each other and wondered what the fuck they were thinking. After that, it was pretty much just necessities.

                One trip was just clothing. They had a list of winter gear they needed, and spent an afternoon trying on clothes and boots until they both had complete wardrobes.  Dean picked up a $900 watch, although Sam didn’t know why the hell he needed one, now that marking the passing of time was pretty much a moot point. It looked so good on him, though, that Sam relented and got one, too.

                They had several cords of wood, and Sam hoped this would be enough to get them through the winter, but decided he’d pick up a few more before too long.  Stacking wood was sweaty work, but he loved the feeling of fatigue and accomplishment and god damn, having a cold drink with ice- _ice_ \- made it so fucking worth it.

                One thing Dean had insisted on -and Sam backed him up on this one- was a trip to a game store. They filled the trailer with a couple of big TVs, game systems and boxes upon boxes of video games and movies. No matter how lame they were, they took them all. Never knew how bored you might get on long winter days. Of course, as Sam thought it, he immediately went to the notion that he’d know _exactly_ how to keep busy on a snowy winter night. And it didn’t involve fucking video games, _Dean_.

                So there they were, two weeks into their new digs; Sam reading in a leather recliner, Dean watching a Die Hard movie and munching on popcorn. Ozzy was, of course, settled on Dean’s lap as he was laying on the couch, begging for handouts.

                “Sammy-  Blu-ray is awesome!” he turned back to pelt Sam with a kernel.

                “Jesus, Dean. Quit- we just cleaned-“ He picked up the popcorn and tossed it to Ozzy, who promptly scarfed it.

He took a moment to look at Dean, who was lost again in his movie. He’d gained some weight and put on a bit of muscle since he’d started eating better and moving around more. Even though he bitched a little, Sam knew he actually loved the couple hours of PT they put themselves through every morning. Dean pushed himself as hard as Sam had ever seen him- working until he was drenched in perspiration and out of breath. But he always had a grin for Sam, and if he ever noticed Sam’s appreciation of his ready smile or the way he took off his sweaty shirt and stretched his lean muscles, he never commented on it.

It was hard to distance himself from Dean again. The moments on the road, when they were both so raw and vulnerable, were still vivid in Sam’s memory. No matter how much Sam wanted  it like it was, Dean managed to make it clear there was no going back. He wouldn’t even hear about talking about it. _It never happened_.  Dean had compartmentalized it. Probably stored the memory under _Things I Never Want to Think About Again_ \- somewhere between Lisa and Ben and Dad dying. He had a knack for burying shit deep.  That was okay. Sam had a lot of experience digging things up.

                Sam still let himself be affectionate, even though he knew Dean hated it. Laid his hand on Dean’s waist when he passed him in the kitchen.  Pressed a kiss on his shoulder when he walked by. Ruffled his hair when he caught Dean napping. Even if it meant a snarly, _“Fucking handsy all the time, Jesus”,_ it was wonderful and he wasn’t going to stop.  Dean put up with it. Sam wasn’t so sure if it was because he liked it or if he thought that if he gave Sam that much, he wouldn’t ask for more.  For now, he would be content with this. But not forever.

                Even though Dean was talking a whole lot better- and face it, he never was much of a talker, anyway- he was still sorely lacking in the physical department. Could walk alright for the most part, but it was tentative and unsure. Like he was using someone else’s body and wasn’t too sure how it worked. His movements were always deliberate and a bit shaky, and his hands had trouble gripping. Holding a knife was nearly impossible, although he tried a little sparring now and then. Sam could take him down like a two year old, but was nice to see him trying anyway.

                Sam got up and checked the salt lines like he did every night. Old habits died hard, but he still kept at it, even though there hadn’t been a peep of anything supernatural that he could remember since the world’s end. The guns were always cleaned and loaded; a shotgun by each door and a knife and pistol on the side table.  His warding on the house was as tight as he could make it. No sense getting careless.

                Dean had fallen asleep with one hand across Ozzy, who was curled on his stomach. Sam just stood there and looked at him for a minute, feeling  a yearning as wide and deep as he’d ever known. The urge to lean over and kiss him was like an ache in his gut, and he thought about it for a second before settling for a soft caress of Dean’s cheek. Dean opened his eyes and turned up to Sam. Looked so  god damned soft and approachable, and Sam wanted to lay down with him and let him see how much he was loved.

                “Dean, I’m going to bed. Y’wanna hand getting up?”  

                He watched Dean rub the sleep out of his eyes and he put out his hand for help and Sam pulled him up, wrapping an arm around him and feeling his solid weight and warmth. He helped Dean, now a little stiff and achy from sleeping so awkwardly, into his bedroom and next to the bed. Dean fumbled with his belt and Sam batted his hands away and pulled off his jeans and socks and lifted him into bed. Pulled up the covers and thought, _I’m gonna take care of you , Dean. Never let you down._

Sam poured himself a couple of fingers of Jack Daniels and sat back in the recliner. He took a sip of his drink and leaned back- letting the quiet envelope him. He felt safe here. God knows, he should be fucking happy as a pig in shit right now, he thought. But aside from the quiet peace, he still felt like something was missing. He knew what it was. Dean.

He sat there, thinking of Dean and how he looked waking up on the couch. How fucking beautiful he was.  Jesus, he didn’t have the slightest clue how he could undo Sam with just a glance. When Dean sat there next to him and looked over - his lips curving into a little smile, god, it killed him. He wanted to grab him and mash his mouth against Dean’s and kiss him hard and deep until he admitted – fucking to himself and Sam both- that he wanted this. Wanted Sam. 

                Sam knew he was fucked. He was totally, utterly, impossibly in love with Dean. In love- as in wanted to hold him, wanted to fuck him, wanted to be with him forever and nothing else but him in this cocoon  they’d created- Jesus Christ- _Dean_. From day one, his earliest memory, he loved Dean.  He was Sam’s world, and no one, Dad included, could ever measure up. Dean was the gold standard. His everything.

He thought of Dean and felt a lovesick ache in his gut.  Christ, he had it bad – and the hardest thing about it was that he wasn’t going to act on it.  The feeling when Dean shrugged off his hand, or turned away from his kiss? It hurt. Hurt like hell. Fuck, made him feel like a fifteen year old girl. When Dean rejected him he felt pain. Real, physical pain that made him want to get out and walk long and far away. Of course, he put it down  to his crazy, but he knew, deep down, that it was real and he just wondered how much longer he could hold out without breaking.

With a sigh, he got up and put the glass in the sink and went upstairs to bed. As he lay down, he wondered if maybe tomorrow things would be different. He knew they wouldn’t. Nothing would change. Because he wasn’t going to press. Woudn’t ask for what wasn’t given freely. Shouldn’t. But wanted. Wanted so damn much to be wrong.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want some more porny bits? Stay tuned for the next chapter!  
> Thank you so much for reading! I love all of you! xoxo


	16. Chapter 16- Pretty Panties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a dream sequence. It's dirty and sexy and contains underage sex. Dean is 19 and Sammy is- well, you figure it out. Basically, here's how Dean got into a pair of Rhonda Hurley's panties. Just basically one porny chapter. Skip and it won't hurt your enjoyment of the story.

 

      Chapter 16- Pretty Panties

 

       A thump and a high pitched giggle woke Sam out of his sleep. Moonlight filtered in through the curtained window over his bed, and with a quick glance, he could barely tell that Dean’s bed was empty.

       Another soft giggle and a low groan came from the other side of the door. _Of course.  Dean bringing his date home to fuck._ Sam turned over and punched his pillow. _Rude bastard.  He knows I have exams tomorrow._ He lay their a minute, steaming mad in no time flat, listening to the two of them out in the living room.  _Dad’s gone for one fucking day and already, Dean?_

       The paper-thin walls of the rental house meant Sam would hear every word, especially since the bedroom door wasn’t even latched, just cracked open a sliver. Sam was ready to stomp out there and give them both hell for waking him up.  Then he heard something that stopped him.

       “I look fucking ridiculous. Man, you’re a kinky little thing.”

       That was Dean, followed by a girl’s giggle. _What the fuck?_

       “Aw, come on, baby, you promised you’d wear ‘em, and you look sooo damn delicious-“ 

       Sam couldn’t see her face, but he heard the sexy pout in her voice.  He was instantly wide awake and burning with curiosity.

       He heard Dean’s intake of breath and a low moan. A couple of moans and some whispering.

       “You like me in ‘em, honey?  Wearing ‘em just for you. Now you c’mere and gimme some of that sweet pussy-“

 _Really- what the fuck was going on?_ Sam got up on his elbows, head cocked toward the door, motionless. His breath was beginning to deepen.  He strained to hear more, but there was just the sound of breathing, more like panting, really- then some serious wet squelchy noises that kind of grossed him out. He felt like the perviest kind of voyeur, but he was hooked and couldn’t stop now.

        “Let’s get in the bed, baby. Wanna lay you out and lick you all over-“

        Sam barely had time to roll back against the wall - hiding most of his face with the pillow and pretending to be asleep- when the door swung open and Dean and a girl came in and sat on the other bed.  Dean hushed the girl and whispered for her to stay quiet while he nuzzled her neck and – _holy fucking shit-_ Sam could see through his slightly parted lashes that Dean had his pants off and was wearing a pair of women’s panties.

 _What the hell?_ Dean was wearing girl’s panties. He tried to wrap his brain around it. He peeked again and, yup- pink satiny girl’s panties.  It was dark in the bedroom, but with the full moon and Sam’s eyes adjusted to the light he could see that the panties were _definitely_ there and _definitely_ pink. And shiny satin. Fuck!

       Even more, Dean’s hard dick wasn’t even all the way in the panties.  Dean had a pretty big dick. Sam had seen it more times than he could say over the years, but since Dean got to be fifteen or so, his dick just got freaking huge. And now, those little petite pink panties were stretching to accommodate Dean’s long, hard, cock and failing miserably. They barely contained his balls. Dean’s dick just sort of poked out of the top; erect and ready for battle.

       Sam was frozen like a cornered rabbit, praying he wouldn’t be noticed. He watched the show play out in front of him only a few feet away and nearly moaned aloud when he saw Dean slide his hand up her thigh, disappearing under her short skirt. And all of it was fucking right there. _Right there, man._ He did his best to keep his breathing slow and quiet as he willed himself invisible against the wall.

       Dean leaned her back on the bed, and pushed the skirt to her waist. Sam watched him nudge her legs apart, and he could see her bare pussy- the soft shaven lips and pink crease.  Knowing Dean was wearing her panties kicked his horniness up a few notches and his cock went from hard to diamond.

       She must have been feeling pretty turned on, too, because she was moaning and spreading her legs apart giving Sam a perfect view of Dean’s fingers sliding along her slick and shiny lips. His fingers were dipping in and out and up against her clit, which was clearly visible like a little pink button. Dean was murmuring sweet and filthy endearments to her while he worked his fingers in and out and across her clit.

       “That feels nice, baby? Yeah. Oh yeah, sweetheart- god, you’re so wet- “He was whispering, but Sam heard him plain as day.

       She moaned against his lips, turning her head as he moved along her neck. Sam watched through half closed eyes as she arched against his brother.

       “Dean- ohmygod is that someone in the other bed?” she hissed in a whisper.

       “Oh,Sammy? Don’t worry, baby, kid could sleep through a nuclear bomb. Just – c’mere, forget him- yeah honey- come on-“

       He must have hit a sweet spot because she mewled just like a kitten, Sam thought, and he was dying to press his rigid dick into the mattress or palm it or – _fuck_ – something to relieve the aching. Now that she knew he was there he was even more still, if that was possible.

       Dean had her legs apart and her shirt pulled open, exposing her bra and he moved to slide her shirt off her shoulders.

       “He might hear us.”

       “Nah. Shh- “

       The bed was creaking under them as Dean got her bra off and he slid out of his shirt. Christ, now they were both practically naked, and Sam’s cock was leaking a wet spot on his boxers. They were both into it and Sam moved a little and just watched them over the top of his pillow. Dean had her nipple in his mouth and was teasing it, then he turned and- oh fuck- looked right at Sam, a hint of a smile on his face.

       Despite the darkness, Sam felt his face flushing with heat at being caught, but what the hell could he do but lay there. Dean said nothing, just kept nibbling her breast and staring at him.

       “God, Dean, feels so good-“she whispered with a soft moan.

       He looked at Sam, his tongue licking across her tit.

       “Is this making you hot?”

       Who the hell was he talking to? Sam only wondered for a second because Dean said, “Like this, don’t you” and Sam _knew_ it was directed at him.

 _Fuck, oh jesuschrist, what the hell was he doing_? Sam bit his lip hard to keep in the groan that was on the tip of his tongue.  Moving slowly, he inched his hand down to his dick to press on it – just a little, just to relieve the pressure- _and oh, god_ – watched Dean watching him.

       Dean groaned loudly and rolled against her, kissing her hard and wet and they were just a bundle of hands and legs and then she was rolling over and taking his cock in her mouth. Dean sat back and let her work on him while he glanced down and put his hand on the back of her head. As she went deep, he groaned again and put his head back and closed his eyes. Sam stroked himself a couple times while he could. Dean brought his head up and looked right at him.

       “God damn- Look at that. Fuck- look at how fucking hot that is.” He whispered. It was a stage whisper, and so obvious to Sam he wasn’t really trying to be quiet anymore. Dean looked down at her blonde head, then back up at Sam. He was enjoying being on display. “You like that? Oh god- getting my cock sucked by the gorgeous Rhonda Hurley-“

       She grunted in appreciation and with even more energy, worked him with her mouth, not getting down all the way, - gagging a little when she did, so she used her hand to stroke him while she sucked him off. Dean was beathing heavy and looking at her and back up at Sam. _Christ, is this really happening_ , he thought with amazement.

       Dean slid her off him- pressed her against the mattress- lifted her legs wide and leaned over to kiss her wet pussy. She panted with short little breaths and small sounds of pleasure. Dean had her legs open, one across his shoulder, and one hanging off the bed. He licked her from low on her abdomen down to the waiting warmth, and slicked his tongue up and down her until she was moaning incoherently, her head rolling from side to side and “Dean-Dean-“ coming out in little pants of ecstasy. Dean was sucking her clit _–fuck, sucking it, like it was a piece of candy or something_ – and she had her hips up almost off the damn bed.  Dean, his shiny, pink-clad ass propped in the air, made sure that her wide legs were positioned so Sammy had a great view of the action.  

       Sam took advantage of having them be distracted and he worked his hand over himself faster and more freely. Watching a private sex show was a fantasy come true for any teenage boy and having your brother as the porn star was just too fucking much. He was breathtakingly, achingly hard and it took him just a few more tugs and he came all over his hand. _At least I can lay still_ , he thought, relaxing; that was until the Rhonda turned her head and noticed him watching them.

       She was lost in her own passion, but still managed to gasp.

       “ _Dean- your brother’s watching us-“_   She attempted to rise up, but Dean put his hand across her chest and squeezed her breast.

        “Yeah, baby- “ he resumed sucking and tonguing her clitoris. Her eyes slid half shut, because _obviously- Dean was a master_ , Sam thought. “It’s kinda hot, right?” he said against her soft mound.

        At that, she moaned and arched up to meet his mouth, and Sam saw the pink tip of her tongue come out and lick her top lip as she looked at him before sliding her eyes closed.

       “Mm- yeah, look so pretty, laying there- letting him watch you get eaten out-“Dean licked her up and down the length of her. “Let him see that sweet pussy of yours, baby.”

       Oh man. She opened her legs wider- and Sam was hard all over again. Now that the pretense of him hiding was gone, Sam moved closer to the edge of his bed, watching -grinding his dick into the mattress softly.

       “Gonna make her come, Sammy- you watching?” Dean was clearly getting off to it, too. He turned and smiled at Sam.

       “Uh-“Sam’s voice was a harsh rasp. He cleared his throat.”Yeah-“

       Dean went down on Rhonda again, working his magic and she was obviously close to coming. Her hips pulsed up and down, the rhythm increasing until she was wailing softly. Dean pulled her up and sat on the edge of the bed, positioning her facing Sam with her legs open, and slid his cock into her with a groan.

       “Fuck, sweetheart- you feel so good-“

       He rocked in and out of her, one hand between her legs, the other holding himself up.  They continued like that for some time, with Sam practically hanging off the bed, glued to the sight of them fucking before him. Rhonda was moaning and making the hottest little gasps Sam had ever heard.

       Dean had his eyes on Sam, heavy with lust and something else- Sam wasn’t sure what- and Dean smiled at him in a dark and dirty way that made his dick jump.

       “Baby, look at Sam so horny over there. You’re turning him on so much.” He leaned in and bit her softly at the top of her shoulder and she gasped loudly. “Got him so hard. You hard, Sammy?”

       “Fuck yeah” _No shit. Goddamn._

       Dean was a master at this kind of thing. Like a fucking pied piper. He led you down a path and you were oh so willing to follow along- consequences be damned.

       “Give him a little show, honey.” He moved her hands down to her pussy. She knew what he wanted her to do. “Let him see you, baby.”

       She leaned her head back, fingers working frantically against herself, reached up and pinched her nipple like a fucking porn star. Moaned and uttered _oh, yeah, babe_ while she spread herself for Sam’s enjoyment. _Jesus, no one would ever believe this – ever._

       Dean watched Sam over her shoulder as he slowly fucked her. Kissed her shoulder and neck and murmured _so good, goddamn, so fucking hot watching you do this to him-_ all while his eyes were locked on Sam.

       “C’mere, Sammy.”

       Sam was startled and his eyes jumped to Dean’s from where he’d been staring at Dean’s cock sliding in and out of her.

       “Huh?-“

       Dean chuckled darkly and motioned with his head for him to come closer. Sam got up from the bed and moved to them and Dean reached over and stood Sam between his open legs. He took Rhonda’s hands in his and they slid up to the waistband of his boxers, lowering them. _Oh, jesus- what-_

       “Gonna help him out, baby? Lookit that cock, so hard for you.”

       They pulled his boxers down, and his cock, still a little wet and sticky, stood out like an invitation. She moaned and took him in her mouth and Sam just about blew his load right there. Dean had his hands on the sides of his thighs, stroking softly up and down and Sam managed to open his eyes and saw Dean staring hungrily at her as she sucked him off.

       “Feels good, huh? All that wet heat “ he squeezed Sam’s legs and his hands slid up to just below his ass. Fuck, if it wasn’t the most amazing thing he’d ever felt. Watching Dean, he wanted his hands to move even higher, and when Rhonda licked around the head of his cock, he licked his lips- wanting more than anything to have Dean put his mouth on him. Jesus- what was he thinking- _but Christ, he wanted it._

 _Fuck_ -He was getting his first blow job from a hot girl and all he could think about was having it be Dean doing it- of Dean leaning over and taking his cock in his mouth and sucking him.  Eyes locked with his, Dean leaned down and licked along Rhonda’s shoulder, stoked his ass and murmured,”Yeah, baby boy, give it to me-” and Sam came in a flood of heat and white noise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go. Was Dean just teasing Sammy, or was he close to making a move on him? You decide :)


	17. Chapter 17-Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam tries to talk to Dean about the elephant in the room. Sam talks with not-Jo, and Sam and Dean discover they're not the only survivors of the Croatoan virus.
> 
> Long chapter. Too much for one, not enough for 2!

Chapter 17-No Longer Alone

 

 The weather had turned cold and there had been snow flurries all morning. Sam hiked back to the house, his rifle slung over his shoulder and two rabbits tied to the pack on his back. Ozzy ran along excitedly beside him. The dog had turned out to be an excellent hunting companion, despite being mostly still a puppy.  He’d heel alongside Sam as he walked and could stay still and quiet when ordered to, but as soon as the game was down, he turned into a whirling dervish of excitable energy- all lolling tongue and oversized paws.

Sam’s boots crunched through  the light crust of snow as he made his way back to the house. He cleaned the rabbits out behind the shed, feeding the offal to Ozzy, who gobbled the bloody bits with wolfish glee. As he grew, Sam could see the giant of a dog he’d become.  Heavy boned, a wide head topped with jaunty pointed ears, Ozzy was shaping up to be a beauty, and the fact he was incredibly intelligent made Sam love him even more. As he scraped and cleaned up the wooden table, Sam kept up the conversation with Bobby (or the not-Bobby, as he reminded himself, sometimes) who always accompanied him out on a hunt.

“-maybe there are, Bobby, I don’t know. I think we owe it to ourselves to find out.”

_I get that, Sam, really- I do. But you boys finally got someplace safe. Yeah, life ain’t ideal. But damn it, Sam, this is the best you’ve had for a long damn time._

“I know. I don’t want to lose this. Feels like we finally have a chance to get better, y’know? Just be brothers again.”

_This is the closest thing you‘ve had to a home in years. I’d say don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Sam. Wait till spring to look._   _If there’s people left, you got plenty of time to find em. You boys take care of yourselves for awhile._

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” He turned away and searched for the right words.” but -Dean- sometimes I see the way he looks at me. Like he’s waiting for me to – I don’t know-“

_Well, whose fault it is that? You fucked up, Sam. I mean, Jesus, your own brother? You have any idea how wrong that is?_

“I know, Bobby. Damn it. I know it is.”

_You need to fix this with Dean. I mean it. You think you idgits can just keep playing house with this hanging between you two? -You fix it – before this causes any more problems._

Sam nodded and sighed, feeling something squeeze in his chest. Fix it? How the hell do you fix this ache- this longing that burned in his gut?  He shook his head , picked up the rabbit carcasses and went in.

Dean was in the kitchen, cooking.  Turned out he loved it, and Sam gladly did all the outside chores and the laundry in exchange for Dean making himself an expert in the kitchen. He was actually pretty good at it, despite his hands, which were still pretty frozen.  The right could handle a spoon or a knife a little, but the left was just about useless. Dean wasn’t dealing with it very well.

“Yo, mighty hunter, fucking open this jar.”

Sam reached for it and popped it open with a twist.

“You wanna grill these rabbits?”

“Nah-“ Dean smiled admiringly at them laying on the sink. “Wascally wabbits gonna be stew.”

They had a nice selection of cold weather veggies from the greenhouse. Sam found several packets of heirloom seeds that seemed primed to sprout. Even with their lack of gardening knowledge, they managed to grow a respectable garden that was finally paying off.  Chef Dean was always out there, cooing over his precious herbs and vegetables in a way that Sam found endearing.

His back to Sam, Dean was back to chopping veggies. His pieces were always pretty big –rustic, he called it- but really that was because he couldn’t maneuver the knife too well. Sam watched for a moment, enjoying the peacefully domestic sounds of chopping and Dean humming tunelessly.

“Hey Dean-“

“Mmh?”

“Yeah, uh- I think we need to talk.”  He hated the way his voice got that tone no matter how hard he tried to control it, and by the set of Dean’s shoulders, he hated it, too.  Dean paused a moment. Probably rolling his eyes-

“Problem-?”

“Look.  I don’t wanna screw up things here. But- I can tell-  Things, between you and me- I mean, you can’t tell me you don’t notice-“

Dean continued chopping. “ _Things?_ What things?”

Damn it, he was gonna make this hard, wasn’t he?

“It’s been four months, Dean, and you and me- I mean- you don’t feel the distance -?”

“I’m right here, Sam. Every day. “ his words curt.

“Fuck, quit playing like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” He was getting pissed off now. _Dean wanted to act like he didn’t know what was going on? Bullshit. “_ You won’t sit next to me on the couch,-and when you look at me like- like-“

“This because I won’t sit next to you _on the couch?”_ He laughed grimly as if Sam had said something utterly stupid.

“Jesus. No, dammit. Look- I’m not going to try anything, alright? You act like I’m gonna molest you or something-“

_“Fuck, Sam- just shut the fuck up.”_

“No, Dean- that’s what you’re thinking. I know it is.” Sam could feel his face, hot and sweaty. “Shoulda known you’d do this. You always do this- Well, it happened. Okay? It happened. No matter how much you want to pretend-“

He was too caught up in his own emotions to realize Dean had spun around and was catching him up by the shirt under his neck.

“ _It’s never gonna happen again, you get it?! Never_ \- so don’t go getting any ideas. _Never again_.” He ground out, and thrust Sam back in the chair.   

They were both breathing hard and Sam was pissed off and wanting to cry at the same time.

“What? No! God, no! I know, Dean, I know, but can’t you just –“

_“Just nothing, Sam. I mean it.”_ He resumed his chopping with restrained violence, carrots falling to the floor.

Fuck. So this is how it was gonna be. Just more pretending and avoiding. Sam sighed heavily and marched to the bathroom to shower, where he could deal with his emotions in privacy. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe if they pretended it hadn’t happened they could at least be brothers. It would be the best thing for Dean, he thought. And for himself. Because if he had to play this part, - and goddamn- he _had_ played it for fucking _years_ -he would. Anything to keep Dean from being let down and disgusted with him _again_. He was so tired of it. Just so damn tired. Through the disappointment and hurt he felt his heart break a little.

\---

A few days of awkward silence between them finally thawed a bit, and they reached some kind of mutual unspoken agreement. Sam never mentioned “that night” or his feelings again and Dean got a little less grumpy and seemed to be making an effort to bury the hatchet, giving Sam a pat on the back now and then and pointedly sitting next to him on the couch during a movie instead of parking himself in the armchair as usual. It was all very civilized and Sam hated it.

It didn’t help that his dreams were so often of Dean. Him and Dean together, in a decidedly not-brotherly way. He did things with his Dream Dean that made him pink with embarrassment when he awoke and seeing the real Dean first thing in the morning – well, it was always a jolt.

It was wrong. Sick. Obviously twisted as hell that he’d _ever_ entertain thoughts of being with Dean _like that_. And yet- part of him accepted it. Okay, so he was fucked up. It was inevitable they’d be broken like this. _Christ._ The upbringing- the years of dealing with death and betrayal and then the icing on the cake- the End- well, why wouldn’t he want some only good thing left in the world?

Sam stayed busy not thinking about it. Worked all day, every day- anything to be too busy or too tired to think about it. It worked pretty well. Until night time, when Dean came to him in his dreams saying _It’s okay to want this_ and _I want you, Sam_ and _oh god, yeah, that’s it_ . Jesus Christ. He was so fucked.

\---

Jo was leaning on the toolbox and Sam was tinkering with a generator. Well, not the real Jo, of course, but the not-Jo.  She was smiling and pretty and telling him jokes.  It was nice to see her, and he even tried flirting with her a little. Never told anyone that he thought she was sexy, in an innocent kind of way- but as he looked at her in that cute little t-shirt, he quirked up a corner of his mouth as he remembered a particular fantasy that involved Jo and her mom. Hello- there was a kink he’d love to dream about – but so far, no luck.

_What are you smiling about?_

“Uh- you don’t wanna know.”

_Something dirty, am I right? Jesus, you Winchesters._

“Can’t  help it. You’re leaning over, practically spilling your tits out-“

_Oh my god, you’re terrible! There’s nothing wrong with this shirt._

“I didn’t say there was-“ he waggled his eyebrows. “It’s just fine.”

She leaned further forward, her cleavage practically in Sam’s face.

_Look all you want. Never getting your hands on these babies_.

“Yeah, I know. I’m not the right Winchester. “ it was said with a chuckle and she leaned back again with mock anger and mortification.

_I don’t know what you’re talking about! Just shut up!_

They laughed hard and her eyes were sparkling with humor even as they caught their breath.

“Oh Jesus, that felt good.”

_Well, you’re pretty easy to laugh at, Winchester_.

“Oh, really? Maybe you should look in the mirror sometime, Sunshine-“

“Sam? Who you talking to?” Sam hadn’t seen Dean come into the garage. He spun around, momentarily speechless. Embarrassed.

“Sammy-?”

_Fuck._

Dean came over and stood there, staring at him.

“You seeing things?”

“Dean. It’s no big deal. Really.” He could feel the flush on his face- looked down and avoided Dean’s eyes.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on? I come out here-hear you talking to someone-“

Sam got up and threw down the greasy rag he was wiping his hands with.

“It’s nothing, okay? Just – nothing  to worry about. “ As if Dean needed to think he was even more fucked  up.

“How long?”

Sam sighed and turned to look at him. Might as well get it over with, because Dean had that big-brother-don’t-fuck-with-me look on his face.

“Alright, fine. Look- sometimes-“ his eyes flicked away, “Sometimes- I see people. It’s no big deal. I know they’re not real.”

_“Sammy.”_ Dean ran his hand over his mouth in that way he did when he was worried.

“I’m telling you, it’s not a problem.”

_“Hallucinating’s not a problem?”_

Sam turned to Dean. Christ, this was awkward.

“Look, Dean. We all deal in our own way. You live in denial- fine- but don’t give me shit about my coping mechanism.”

Dean stood there a second, his brows knit together.

“Lucifer?”

“No. Never him. Not yet, anyway.” Fuck, he hoped not.Ever.  “Just Bobby. Ellen. Sometimes Jo or Ash. Once I got drunk with Rufus.” He laughed without a trace of humor.

“Jesus, Sam-“

“It’s alright. I know they’re not real. But hey- I’m sorry. I know it must suck balls to know I’m still fucking crazy-“

Dean reached out and squeezed Sam’s  shoulder. Such a simple gesture, but it made Sam close his eyes and he was reduced to feeling like a little boy again.  Part of him wished Dean could wrap his arms around him and make it all better.

“Not crazy, Sam.” He squeezed again. “Okay, maybe a little crazy-“  Dean smiled at the lame joke.

\---

They were sitting in the living room, eating some kick ass apple cobbler Dean had baked and watching The Good, The Bad and The Ugly on DVD, because Dean insisted he needed a Clint Eastwood fix, when Ozzy jumped up and started barking at the door with a frenzy they’d never seen before.

Almost by instinct, they threw their plates aside and Sam ran for the shotgun. Dean already had his Colt in his hand and they were at the door, looking through the glass side panel. Hushing Ozzy was impossible until Dean yelled at him to lay down, and they watched with growing shock and amazement as a large, green pickup came creeping up the driveway. It stopped about 50 yards from the house.

“Are you seeing this, Dean?! Are you seeing this?” Sam needed to know he wasn’t losing it.

“Yeah, Sammy, it’s real. Fuck-“

They stayed behind the closed door. The big truck sat idling. A man’s voice came over an amplifier.

_HELLO- IS ANYONE IN THE HOUSE? WE’RE NOT GOING TO HURT YOU. WE JUST WANT TO TALK TO YOU._

Dean and Sam exchanged shocked stares, unsure of what to do next. Dean nodded to Sam, and he cracked the door, leading with the shotgun.

_IT’S ALRIGHT, WE JUST WANT TO TALK. YOU’RE NOT ALONE._

Hearing that made Sam feel weak in the knees. _Not alone_. Still- there’s not alone and then there’s being too trusting- and the Winchesters were never too trusting, that’s for damn sure. Before he could overthink it, Sam yelled out.

“WHO ARE YOU?”

_PUT THE WEAPON DOWN. WE DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU. JUST WANT TO TALK AND LET YOU KNOW YOU’RE NOT ALONE. THERE ARE MORE OF US- PLEASE-_

“Step out of the truck and keep your hands where I can see them!“ Sam yelled, shotgun up and aiming, and Dean muttered _Careful, Sammy_ and grabbed Ozzy by the collar to keep him from running out the door.

_LOWER YOUR WEAPON AND WE’LL COME OUT-_

Sam lowered the shotgun and the doors to the truck opened. Three men stepped out, wearing camo and sidearms. They held their hands up but stayed cautiously behind the open doors of the truck. Instead of using the amplifier, the driver yelled over.

“Come on, man, we’ll put down our guns. You, too! Let’s not let this turn into a situation!”

As  the men put their weapons on the ground, Sam did the same, but Dean slid his Colt into the small of his back. They opened the door and stepped out, ready to fall back if things went bad.

Sam stepped out onto the wide front porch, one hand on the post- legs still rubbery and partly disbelieving his own eyes. Dean was alongside him, steely jawed- and about as trusting as he ever was when things got weird- which was never.  He spoke low to Sam, “Watch out for these ass clowns.”

The men walked up to the house, arms raised and Sam and Dean approached with caution, Dean’s hand still on Ozzy’s collar. They stopped a few yards apart, Sam buzzing with nervous antipation, Dean in step with him.  The driver, apparently the leader of the three, was the first to speak.

“We’re making a routine patrol. Saw your woodsmoke.”

Sam just grunted, unwilling to give much of anything away.

“Have you seen anyone else around? Uninfected, I mean?”

“Whaddya mean uninfected? How many people are left?” Sam asked.

“Croats. Well, we haven’t seen any in over a year, but you never wanna take a chance, right?” The man grinned and looked from Sam to Dean. “You two all that’s here?”

“Yes. Now, how many people are you?” Dean asked sharply.

“Take it easy. There’s not many- ‘bout two hundred.”

Two hundred people? _That’s all?_ Sam felt nauseous all of a sudden. Swallowing back the bile, he heard Dean ask, ”Where are they?”

“Not far, three hours drive. Colorado Springs. Well- what’s left of it-“  The man stepped forward and extended his hand to Dean. “I’m Major Paul Brent.” He indicated the two other men, “this is Sergeant Muriel and Corporal Johnson.”

“Dean and Sam Winchester,” Dean shook the Major’s hand,” Wait. The military’s in charge?”

“Just a few survivors from the army post at Fort Carson. We met up with some other stragglers and set up camp. Majority of the population are civilians with about 20 military,most of who we recruited from the survivors.  Man running things is General  Davis. Now, you’ll need to come back with us for a debrief, see what skills you got, where to place you-“

Sam held his hands up in a STOP gesture.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell are you talking about? Where to _place_ us? We aren’t going anywhere-“ Already this guy was rating high on his douche-o- meter.

Dean was stiff beside him. “ Alright, G.I.Joe, you and your dicks need to clear out. Sam-“ 

The tension skyrocketed instantly. Dean and Sam moved shoulder to shoulder and the three soldiers closed ranks as well. Something of a standoff was occurring. Ozzy, quiet until now, felt the tension and growled low and dangerously.

“Hold on, Mister Winchester- You gotta understand. There are barely two hundred people left. This isn’t the time to be on your own- we need to come together to deal with this. You’ll need to come with us-“

Sam practically vibrated with anger. “You have a lot of balls coming here and ordering us to go with you.“

“No shit,” Dean uttered. He looked ready to kick a little ass.

Major Brent seemed to consider the situation for a moment and gave a short nod.

“Look, guys. I’m not trying to be an asshole, here. Point is, we have a couple hundred scared and helpless people living in pretty awful conditions. Now it seems like you two have got yourselves a pretty  nice setup here and obviously know a thing or two on how to get by. We could really use your help. Just the ability to set up a solar system like this is worth its weight in gold alone. We need you.” He leveled a stare at Sam, then Dean.

Sam felt Dean’s hand on his arm as he pulled him down to whisper, “Sam, take a minute.”

They backed up a few steps and Dean tried his best to convince Sam that he ought to give it a shot. After all, there job was supposed to be Saving People. If they didn’t at least try what was the point? After a minute, Dean had Sam agreeing with him. Dean motioned for Sam to step forward with his offer.

“Alright. Here’s the deal. Dean and I will go with you for a week, two at the outside -but not yet. We need a few days to shut this place down and get things in order. Come back in five days and we’ll come with you, no problems.”

Major Brent took off his cap and ran a hand over his short, bristly head. He sighed and nodded curtly as he came to a decision.

“Okay. Deal. Five days. “

They shook on it, Sam’s eyes boring into Brent’s, daring him to welch on the agreement. Dean put his hand out, and when Brent noticed his grip, he caught Dean’s eye, and spoke with firm kindness.

“Son, we got a physical therapist at camp. Worked with Afghanistan war vets. Be happy to set you up a time to meet with her.” He let go as Dean tugged his hand away with a mumbled thanks. His cheeks pinked and he nodded his head.

It didn’t take long for the soldiers to get back in their truck and go, leaving Sam and Dean staring at each other with the dawning realization that , thankfully, they were no longer the last.

\---

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! xoxo


	18. Chapter 18- Tears and Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean spend the evening before leaving for the camp with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Poor boys, don't they realize alcohol is a depressant? As the whiskey loosens them up, some truths are uncovered and some are buried.
> 
> Sorry for the format change. I had problems with cutting/pasting and lost paragraph indents.

 

Chapter 18- Tears and Whiskey

 

Dean gestured for Sam to top up his drink, too.

“Don’t get it. Though you’d be thrilled.”

“Well, yeah. I am.”

“Really? “ he looked skeptical. “ Just about had to force you to agree to go.”

“I don’t know, Dean. It’s great, yeah- I mean, I’m happy, I am. But being forced to move? Be ‘placed’? “ He shook his head, bangs falling into his eyes, ”Not really something I wanna sign up for, y’know?”

Dean grunted in agreement as he sipped his whiskey.

“I can tell ya one thing, Sammy, “ Dean pointed one finger of the hand holding his glass,” those asshat army dudes running the place? It’s gonna be more Patton than Stripes. Mark my words.”

Sam liked that Dean got more talkative the drunker he got. It loosened something in his brain and let the words flow, which was partly a good thing- sometimes not so much. This time it was good. A last blow out before taking that trip to Camp BendMeOver.  

“I don’t trust ‘em, Dean. Didja see the way they were looking at the place like it was – I don’t know- spoils of war? Fucking wanted to kick that Sergeant Assdick from here to Texas.”

Dean laughed hard. He leaned his head back against the sofa cushion, propping his feet on the  coffee table.

“Dude, get your stinky feet off the table, man! S’gross.” Sam kicked at him with his foot.

“Fuck, Sammy- “ He kicked back, connecting and ripping a squeal out of Sam. “Oh my god, you _are_ a girl- knew it, bitch!”

“Crippled jerk!” Sam grinned back and lifted his hand to his mouth in a parody of shock, ”Did I?! Oh yeah- I did!”

“Dude, that’s so not funny. Making fun of me. I’m challenged, ‘kay?”

“Riight- ‘bout as challenged as a hooker with three titties. You’re the most capable person I know-“ He flipped Dean the bird because after all, Winchesters didn’t do warm ‘n fuzzy. That was a fucking shame, though. Once he could tell Dean he loved him. Not even that long ago- but now it might as well be a million years.

“What’s wrong, emo boy?”

Sam looked up, raised brows implying Dean was maybe seeing things.

“C’mon. You got that look.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, Dean. S’fine.” He smiled, really working it. No way Dean was going out there tomorrow thinking Sam had a problem.

“See, kid, that’s what you never could figure out.” He drained his glass, pointing for Sam to refill it. “I know you backwards. Forwards. Upside down.  Can’t hide anything.”

Sam smirked back at Dean, but hell yeah, there was a whole lotta truth to that.  He just sighed and shrugged.

“Okay, y’got me. I’m a little drunk – and maybe a little sentimental. Okay with that, dick?”

Dean leaned forward onto his elbows and looked at Sam. Despite being drunk, he was able to switch from kidding around to serious in no time flat.

“Sammy. You alright? Really?”

Looking out the window to the dark night beyond, Sam felt the weight of his own feelings and there was a sudden moisture in his eyes. Fuck, was he about to cry? Jesus Christ – what a fucking sap.

“Yeah, man, I’m fine. I guess I’m just thinking about us- all the shit we’ve been through. Goddamn amazed we’re still alive. “ he looked at Dean. “You ever think about that? Wonder why we deserve to still be breathing? After everything?”

Dean looked down into his glass, as if the amber swirls held any kind of answers. He pondered, his lips pursed, and  Sam began to think he was possibly too drunk to really know how to answer that question.

“Sometimes- I think-maybe part of being from a cursed family means that we’ll never get any peace, y’know?  Like- no matter what we do, no matter how much good- _save the world, fuck,_ whatever- nothing’s _ever_ gonna be good enough – and we’re just marking time till we cash out.” He swallowed the whiskey in one gulp and looked down at the ground for a second before recovering with a forced laugh. “Anyway- hit me again, Sammy. If I’m going, I’m going. Nothing to worry about, right? Just gotta enjoy the ride.”

“It’s been a fucking long ride, Dean. Fucking. Long. Ass. Ride. I’m tired. Y’know?” he looked at Dean, seeing through the confident smirk that he knew hid a couple lifetime’s worth of pain. How the hell did Dean deal?  He seemed to have an endless faculty for denial. “Being here- in this house? Prob’ly the best time I’ve had in -  years. Yeah. Years.”  He leaned forward and rubbed Ozzy between the ears and cooed at him. “- and we have Ozzy- our sweet big baby, yes you are-“

“He’s a damn good dog. Best doggie in the world, ain’tcha Oz?” he joined Sam in lavishing attention on Ozzy, who was loving it. He tried worming his way on the couch, and despite Sam’s protests and Dean’s encouragements, the big shepherd managed to curl up between them, his head on Dean’s lap, eyes moving back and forth.

“Damn, that dog loves the shit outta you, Dean.”

“Smart dog. Knows who’s the best bro.” He worked his free hand through Oz’s thick fur. “Y’slacking off, Sammy, my glass is empty.”

They were nearly through the bottle and still coherent. Sam was surprised, but poured them each another drink. Who would it hurt? They had an infinite capacity for hurt  and alcohol, it seemed. This was like mother’s milk to them.

“I never woulda believed you’d take to him like that. You hate dogs.”

“Correction. Hate dogs. Love my Ozzy- right baby? Lookit you, big ole silly doggie-“

Sam snickered at Dean’s doggy baby talk, and laughed outright when Dean shot him a glare.

“No, really. You make a great pet parent. Hell, you made a great parent, period. The way you were with Ben-“

“Oh, Sam, now don’t. Please, don’t do this-“ he turned his head away from Sam, sitting very still. “Change the subject, man-“

“But you were, Dean. You were the best parent to me – better than Dad ever was- yes, it’s true, and you know it- and you were great with Ben, too-“

“Sam, you know I can’t do that. Can’t talk about them. Please don’t. “ He tipped his head back and pinched the bridge between his eyes. “You promised never to talk about them-“

“No, you told me never to talk about them. Big difference. It might help, y’know - If you ever talked about them. This thing- burying it so deep? S’not good for you, Dean. You always just wanna stop thinking about things. Like that’s gonna make it not be real –“

“Fuck, why are you doing this, Jesus Christ-“

“It’s okay to miss them, Dean. It’s okay to think about them.” Why was he pressing? Picking at it like it was a half-healed scab, slightly bloody around the edges. “They were real. You loved them-“ his voice broke.

“God damn you, Sam. You fuck.” There was no heat to his words, just the pain they were laced with. “They’re dead. Get it? Dead and reaped and gone. No matter what Cas ever said, I doubt I’m heading upstairs to see ‘em again, so why the fuck think about ‘em now?”

“I’m sorry. You’re right- it’s shitty of me to talk about them.”

“Ben was a good boy, though. Helluva good kid.” A tear tipped his lashes. “Y’know? I was teaching him how to work on cars- Funny, huh?  Woulda been a damn fine man if the fucking angels gave him a chance to grow up-“ He ran his hand over his face. “Jesus-“

“He was lucky to have you. I was, too,” Sam spoke softly, barely audible.”You were my hero. Hell, still are.”

“Some hero. Just managed to fuck up our lives completely-“  He laughed without mirth. “’Course the angel dicks helped.”

“True that. Fucking assholes.”

“Damn straight. So we ended up getting boned our whole lives by all those sons a-bitches and who gets left holding the bag in the end? Goddamned Winchesters. Like this is some kind of prize.” Dean looked down in despair.

“The thought that the apocalypse – us, mom and dad- _everything_ – was planned out for millennia- fucking boggles the mind, y’know?  It’s a complete mind fuck. Jesus-“ Sam just shook his head, thinking.

“Well, it’s pretty hard to deny destiny when you’ve had your path carved out when God made  the universe. ‘Course we did a pretty good job of fucking destiny in the ass-“ He turned to Sam and smiled sadly. “Boned those angel bastards right back, y’know?”

“That we did, Dean. But you didn’t fuck up our lives. Quit saying that. I couldn’t have made it this far without you. Never wanted to-“  He got up to grab another bottle. Maybe one more. Hell, maybe more than one, who gave a shit?

_“Sammy-“_

“You know it’s true, Dean. Saved my ass too many times to count- always looking out for me. You were the one person- the only one I could ever count on to really have my back- and I let you down so many times.” He ran his hand through his hair, feeling pretty awful.

“Pour me one.” Dean leaned back, his hand on Ozzy’s ears.”You forgetting all the shit you did for me?- ‘cause I don’t. Just stop-“

“I know we’re damaged in a lotta ways, Dean. So many ways. And I’m not talking just about the fucked up codependent thing- no- wait- hear me out- Not just that- we’ve been through some shit, Dean. Shit that would make other people lie down and give up.  I couldn’t a done it without you, man.”

“Okay, had about enough of this pity party, don’tcha think?” The words were light, but Dean looked miserable.

Sam chuffed a sad laugh. He swirled the whiskey in his glass. “When the whole universe is aligned against you, you gonna want to be with the one you can count on, y’know?” He knew he was perilously close to talking about what shouldn’t be said. It was hard, so fucking hard not to.

“I can relate.” Dean flicked his eyes to Sam’s and away.

“Maybe that’s part of the whole story, Dean. Y’know? I mean- God made us this way, maybe this is all part of it-“

“God? That rat bastard.”

“But-  y’know what I mean?”

“Sammy- what you’re saying - Jesus Christ. It’s unnatural, man. I know our fucked upbringing has a lot to do with it, but-I just can’t. Just- “ he heaved a heavy sigh, as if the weight of all _that_ was going to break him. “It can’t ever be, Sam. ‘Cause we’ve gotta be better than that. Gotta do the right thing, okay?”

Dean set down his glass and refilled it with a shaky hand.

“We go down that path, Sammy- I’d go crazy, okay? Knowing I didn’t do right by you- taking advantage like that?- No. I swore when you were six months old I’d do right by you-“

“Dean- the world’s ended. _It’s over_ , man. Things don’t mean the same as they used to. I just- when I look at you- I just-“

“Stop it, Sam. Please. Don’t do this. I know some things happened- but goddamn, it was wrong, okay? Please let it go. Can’t you just let it go?”

Sam realized he was crying. Silent tears made tracks down his cheeks.

“ I know, Dean. Part of me tells me it’s wrong – and then- part of me- I look at you sometimes, and just – I feel so happy. Through all the shit- when we were hunting, or- when some bad shit was going down- I just looked at you and – Christ- just knowing you were there- made my heart fill up. Jesus, sound like a goddamn Hallmark card-“ He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

_“Sammy-“_

“No, Dean. It hurts. Hurts, alright? I’m drunk, okay- so fuck, I’m saying it, you fucker-“ he rubbed his wrists over his eyes.”It’s not fair. Not fair that after everything we’ve been through – mother _fuck_ \- we been through some _shit_ , Dean- after all that, I feel a little bit of happiness being with you and now it’s wrong? It’s fucking wrong? Is that what you’re telling me? “

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Sam.” Dean’s eyes were shiny bright, and green- and wide with pain.

“I don’t understand, Dean. Tell me why it’s wrong if I love you.” Sam’s voice cracked.

“I’ll _always_ be here for you, Sammy, - _you know that_. You gotta know that. But what you think you’re feeling- it’s not love- not the way I think you’re saying.”

Sam looked at the wall. Maybe if he could just do what Dean did, try to not think about it, it wouldn’t be real. The tears leaking from his eyes wouldn’t stop, though- no matter how often he wiped them away.

“Call it whatever you want, Dean.  Maybe it is wrong- maybe it’s sick, fuck- I don’t know. I just know I think about not being with you, - it tears me up inside. If you weren’t here, I’d wanna end it, y’know? Cause I don't think I could go on. Whaddya call that? Wrong? Jesus-“

“Sammy, _please-_ “

“-and you don’t feel even a little bit the same? It’s just me?" He watched Dean looking at him. Waited for an answer that didn't seem to be coming. "Yeah, well. Okay.“  

He managed to pull himself together after a minute and blink his eyes clear. The hole opening up in his chest was so wide, black and deep he felt like he could jump in and fall forever.  He couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat, and Sam knew he had to get out of there and be alone with his misery.

“Going to bed now, Dean. Got a big day tomorrow.”

Dean watched him with his sad, green eyes as Sam made his way upstairs to his room.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so sad for Sam, all that unrequited love- and poor Dean, always compelled to protect Sammy, even if it's from himself.  
> thanks for reading  
> xoxo


	19. Chapter 19-Camp Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are escorted to Camp Hope, the refugee camp where the survivors have gathered. Sam and Dean meet up with Cas again, who take them to meet the camp commander. They learn some terrible news about the survivors and the future of humanity.

Chapter 19- Camp Hope

They got up early and finished the last of the packing; checked the house and cleaned up the empty liquor bottles and leftover snacks. Sam fed the dog and then they more or less just sat around to wait. Sam’s hangover had his head pounding and so was Dean’s, judging by the way he gingerly sat on the couch, drinking his coffee and keeping his eyes half closed. They sat close, but not too close, and there was a definite air of tension.

“Don’t know how voluntary this thing is, Sam. Let’s just stick together and try not to get separated.”

“Yeah. Good idea. I don’t trust these guys, Dean.”

“They haven’t given us a reason not to trust ‘em, but you’re right, need to be on our toes.”

Both of them were carrying. Dean had his Colt along with a knife tucked in his boot, a box cutter in his jacket; Sam was similarly armed with a Beretta and switchblade.  
The silence drew out to near discomfort, but no way was either brother interested in revisiting the conversation of the night before. They sat and drank coffee as the gulf between them seemed to widen until Sam finally got up with the urge to do something- anything- to break the tension.

“Getting something for my head. You want any?” He filled a glass and downed a couple of aspirin.

“Nah. M’good.”

Like hell. He was pale and drawn looking, the effects of alcohol still obvious. Couldn’t be feeling that great, Sam thought. He rolled his eyes and sat back down, preferring the proximity to Dean over the need for space. Despite the tension, they were going into this together. As always.

Sam tried not to think about it. He’d lain in bed for a long time thinking about what Dean had said and he knew it was a load of bullshit. He knew exactly what he felt- that he loved Dean- and no, not just that he loved him, but the fact he was _in love_ with him. Jesus. He couldn’t believe he actually said that. God, yeah, he was drunk as Cooter Brown when he spilled it, but hey- now it was out there, and part of him was relieved. Scared as hell and ashamed and confused, but, yeah, most of all, relieved.

Dean shit all over his admission just like he thought he would and all that Sam had left was a sense that maybe it might mean something once he got used to the idea. Still- how fucking embarrassing. Getting all mushy like he was on Oprah and thinking Dean would understand? What was he thinking?

They made some breakfast and did the dishes; ending up back on the couch, silently waiting but unable to make conversation or talk about much of anything.

\---

They stood on the porch with their duffels, watching the Hummer pull up the drive. Dean had Ozzy on a leash, shushing him with a hand on his head.

Sam’s eyes met Dean and they exchanged a wordless here we go. Dean’s sharp intake of breath betrayed his apprehension and even Ozzy felt the tension, vibrating with nervous energy and panting madly.

The doors of the vehicle opened and two men stepped out- one dressed in uniform, the other in jeans and a dark jacket. They stood by the Hummer for a moment before they started for the house. Sam wrapped his hand around the porch railing, overwhelmed by a sudden sense of vertigo. He heard Dean’s voice, muted and dull through the roaring in his ears.

 _“Cas?”_ Dean said with disbelief. Sam jerked his eyes to Dean, who stood slack-jawed with an expression of shock turning to unadulterated joy.

“Cas?” he called out, “My god, is that you?”

It was Castiel, but again, not the Castiel they knew. This Cas was striding forward, confident- smiling openly, humanly- without any of the inherent awkwardness the angel usually carried.

Sam’s feet seemed rooted, but his legs went weak and he suddenly had a hell of a hard time making his brain believe what his eyes were seeing. He watched Dean go to Cas and the two men embraced in a gripping hug.

“Dean. It’s very good to see you.”

“Jesus Christ. Cas-“ Dean had his hands on Cas’ shoulders. “It’s really you.”

They stood there for what seemed to Sam an eternity, until Cas turned to him.

“Sam.” He moved forward and embraced Sam, his arms surprisingly strong and Sam found himself with a lump in his throat as he held the one who was at one time almost a brother and almost a god. “You made it, Sam, you made it.” He murmured.

He pulled back and they stood looking at each other, silly grins on all their faces.

“Cas, I just don’t believe it.” Dean said, slowly shaking his head.

“Yes, I feel nearly the same way seeing you two.” He looked from Dean to Sam and back. “When Major Brent said the two men he found were named Winchester, I knew I had to be the one to come out and bring you back in.”

“Cas, this is amazing,” Sam uttered, and yeah, it was amazing. That after the plague, the fall of the angels, the years gone by, that it would be Cas here to greet them.

Dean was staring at Cas and grinning, any trace of hesitation about going to the camp gone. Sam noticed and felt a twinge of apprehension. Sure, Cas being alive and here was wonderful; a miracle, really. But honestly, those were pretty fucking amazing odds. Sam couldn't help but feel uneasy. Maybe it was the coincidence of seeing Cas here, or maybe it was something else. He tried to tamp down the disquiet and accept it. _Weirder things had happened, right?_

“Let’s get your things and get started. I’ll fill you in as much as I can.” Cas looked down at the dog and frowned. “Major Brent won’t be happy with a dog in the camp. Cuts into the rations, you know?”

Dean put his hand on Ozzy’s head. “Cas, you take us, you take Ozzy. It’s a package deal.” Only now was he no longer smiling.

“Yes, that’s fine, of course,” Cas said. ”Bring it along.”

Cas sat sideways in the front seat so he could look at Sam and Dean. He still had that goofy grin on his face.

“Cas, man- I just can’t get over it.” Dean was smiling back at Castiel. Sam watched them and yeah, what Cas had once said- that he and Dean had a more profound bond- it was pretty evident by looking at them. Part of him was a little bit jealous of that. Not that he ever would admit that to Dean. Hell, he had enough of a problem admitting it to himself.

He leaned forward in the seat. “Hey Cas, how long have you been with the survivors?”

“About two years, actually. It’s funny. I had a dream. It took me a while, but eventually I made it here and- ” he shrugged and lifted his eyebrows,” been here ever since.”

“How come you’re not dressed up like Gomer Pyle, here?” Dean indicated the corporal.

“Oh, I’m not a part of the militia, Dean. I served my time as a soldier in Heaven. I think after a few millennia, I’ve paid my dues.” He smiled a little. “Now I serve as an advisor to the General. Dave’s a good man.”

“Dave Davis. Oh, that’s hilarious.” Dean said sourly.

“So Cas,” Sam said,” how long has it been? Since it all started to go really bad, I mean?”

“You don’t remember?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. Dean cleared his throat. “Well. We got – ” He pursed his lips and looked at Sam. “-a little confused.”

Cas smiled sadly. ”Well, it’s been about three years, give or take.”

Cas looked out the windshield and cleared his throat, obviously in some discomfort. “It was- a difficult time for me. Cast out- and my bretheren. Seeing them again, on Earth – so angry. Many of them angry with me. I didn’t know what to do- you understand? “He turned and looked at Dean. “When you can’t help your brothers. Your family. You feel- just -so helpless. And I was afraid.”

He turned again facing forward. “I’m ashamed to say I ran. The angels still had their powers- and they were furious at being cast from Heaven. I ran as far and as fast as I could while they took out their wrath on whoever they perceived as the enemy. Between the angels, the demons and the Croatoan, there wasn’t much hope for humanity.”

“So, you’re all human, now? No angel mojo?” Dean asked.

“No. No mojo.” Cas smiled a little at that. He snickered a little without much humor. “Being human is so much harder than I thought it would be. The pain- the helplessness. I get a batch of bad food and I’m on the toilet for hours.”

“Thanks for the nice visual.” Dean grimaced. “Hey, it’s not all bad. You finally get laid?”

Sam grunted and made a face. “Dean, seriously?”

“What? It’s about the only thing left that makes life worth living, am I right?”

Damn, is that an ironic statement coming from you, Sam thought. He rolled his eyes and looked out the window. Cas laughed.

“There are so few women- and anyway- I’m much too busy to take an interest in that sort of thing. Casual sex is- . Well- the idea is uncomfortable.”

Then Cas turned and smiled at them, as if everything was going to be alright. “But now you’re here. The Winchesters.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. Poor bastard has no idea how wrong he is to put his eggs in that basket. They were fucked from the jump. They were barely hanging on most days, and half the time Sam was ready to just get up and start walking- him and his entourage of hallucinated companions.

Cas spent the rest of the trip giving them the low down on some of the challenges and problems the camp was having; keeping everyone fed and dealing with the lack of sanitation. When they passed the outskirts of what was left of Colorado Springs, with it’s burned out buildings and wreckage, he made up his mind to finish the job and get back home as soon as possible.

\----

They approached the camp; “Camp Hope”, Cas said they were calling it; and from far away, it looked like any trailer park you’d see anywhere back in the old days. As they pulled up, the motley collection of RV’s just looked sad and pathetic. Between each one was a collection of tents, tables and general junk. Men were milling around. Some cooking on open fires or charcoal grills, some sitting around tables playing cards. Most with a bottle in their hands or close by. It looked like a refugee camp. Which it was, Sam noted. Just a bunch of people trying to survive. He saw one or two women. They all looked tired and worn.

There was music playing loudly and lots of yelling. Most of the guys were obviously drunk. A couple of uniformed soldiers with sidearms strolled through the narrow street. It looked sad and dangerous.

“I see why you needed a militia. This place is a powder keg.” Sam observed.

“No shit, “Dean agreed. “It’s a miracle they haven’t killed each other, yet.”

“There have been a few incidents.” Cas admitted. “Dave’s got security patrolling, but they can’t catch everything. It’s gotten worse in the last few months. I think the conditions are part of the problem. Not to mention, most of the survivors are dealing with severe trauma.”

“That’s an understatement,” Dean said. “What these guys need is a kick in the ass.” Sam grunted in agreement.

They drove past the last of the camp toward a group of low buildings situated across a long open field. As they pulled up, Sam looked back and the group of RV’s was still visible, but the noise didn’t carry. It almost looked peaceful, if you didn’t already know how screwed up it was.

As they got out of the Hummer, Dean saw a kid playing with a soccer ball against one of the buildings. He called him over. The kid was filthy but smiling and happy, and when Dean asked if he could watch Ozzy for them, the kid practically fell all over himself. He threw himself onto Ozzy, who lapped it up. Kids and dogs, Sam thought. They went together like peanut butter and jelly.

“That’s Milo. He’s living here with the militia. Dave thought it’d be safer for him.” Cas explained.

Good idea, Sam thought. A young boy surrounded by a camp full of drunken men? Might as well hang out an invitation for him to get bad-touched. The kid was sweet looking and innocent. Probably wouldn’t be for long, he knew. Conditions like this made innocent people wise up or they were fucked. Well, they were fucked already. Just a matter of degree, he supposed.

They walked to the desk where a corporal was typing on a manual typewriter. Sam found it morbidly funny. _Can’t end the world until the paperwork is done._ Bureaucrats were the same everywhere.

Cas spoke to the young soldier who motioned them forward into the General’s office, a well appointed room dominated by a huge mahogany desk. Three chairs were placed in front.

General Davis rose to his feet as they walked in. He was a large man dressed in the standard Army Combat Uniform, its grey, green and tan camo pattern doing nothing to hide his athletic physique. Davis’ hair was peppered with grey and he wore lines on his face betraying the fact that he was somewhere north of fifty.

“Gentlemen, welcome!” He reached out to shake Dean’s hand, then Sam’s. “I’ve heard so much about you from Cas, here, that I’ve been looking forward to meeting you both. I just know you’re going to be a real asset to Camp Hope.”

Sounds like a line of complete and utter bullshit, Sam thought, this guy knows how to play people if he wants. He kept his face impassive.

They got the introductions out of the way and Davis motioned for them to sit. He indicated a well stocked bar. “Can I interest you in a drink?”

Sam noticed that every bottle of liquor was top shelf. More perks of being the only general left on Earth- you only had the best, although that bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue did look pretty tempting.

Sam indicated the JW, and Dean did the same. When Davis said Cas _-the usual?_ -they raised their eyebrows. “Relax, I’m human. Remember?” Cas smiled and said. “Besides, it’s been a long day.”

Davis poured a measure of Maker’s Mark for him and Cas, then came around to the front of his desk, sitting on the edge.

“Cas get you up to speed on our situation here?” He sipped on his whiskey.

“No. Not really. A little.” Dean answered. “He said you’d fill us in when we got here.”

“Yeah. Well, first I’d like to say that I value Cas’s opinion. It’s what prompted me ask him to act as my advisor. He’s got an uncanny knack for getting right to the point, something we encourage around here. And his angel background- well, that’s a perspective you just have to appreciate.”

He swirled the whiskey in the glass.

“Guys. We’ve got hundred and fifty five people in Camp Hope. Sixty-three of them women. A dozen kids under eighteen. One of the first things we did was form a militia; before the survivors began tearing out each other’s throats. Frightened men are dangerous men. You understand that probably more than anyone here-“

Hell yeah, they did. He had them nodding in agreement.

“For two years, it’s been my job to keep this group together and functioning. Most of our militia are recruited from the survivors. Everyone has the same story-“ He waved his hand, nearly spilling his drink.”- ‘Had a dream that they needed to go to Colorado’- hilarious, right? But that’s the truth for everyone- and hell, we all ended up here. “He drank and set down his glass. “Most came in the early days, but it’s never really stopped. We get a straggler in every couple of months -and of course, you two.”

He continued. “Major Brent told me about the nice setup you boys have got back home. Greenhouse? Solar power? Those are all things we could use here to make life a whole lot better for all of us. The skills you have with the solar systems alone are invaluable. Think you’d be willing to help us in that area?”

Dean looked over at Sam. “That’s the guy you need to speak to right there. He’s the brains behind the operation. I’m just the Chief Cook and Bottle Washer.”

Sam rolled his eyes a little at that. “Yeah. Of course we’ll help. Anything we can do.”

Sam moved restlessly in his chair. He side-eyed Dean, who seemed to be hanging on Davis’ every word. Sam could almost read his mind, how he felt compelled to do something for these people. Save them. Keep them alive. If Davis wasn’t here, he had no doubt Dean would step up to fill the void. He was still committed to the idea of Saving People. But him? He’d lost that notion somewhere along the empty highway while pulling Dean around on that ridiculous cart. There was no more room in him for any of that anymore. Too heartbreaking, he guessed. Except for Dean. Always Dean. Saving him.

He looked at Davis and asked the question that had been on his mind ever since they drove through the camp.

“Where are the children?”

Davis paused. He saw Dean shoot him a look out of the corner of his eye. Cas shifted, and sat straighter.

“There are none, Sam.”Cas answered.

“What?” Dean asked him.

“It appears the virus was lethal to all prepubescent children.” Cas said, looking immensely sad.

“Right. Well, somebody better get with the babymaking, or in thirty years, you’re gonna have a camp full of Grumpy Old Men.” Dean quipped.

Davis lifted his hand and rubbed it over his short, bristly hair. “There’s the problem. It seems the virus is still active.” A frisson of unease rolled through Sam and he locked eyes with Dean. The notion they might still catch it was sort of an unspoken fear they never really talked about.

“Oh, not for us. Everyone who’s a survivor caught the virus, got sick as a dog- but survived it. We’ve got some kind of immunity, I suppose. But the doctors tell me that though the pregnant mother is immune-“

“-the immunity doesn’t pass to the offspring.” Sam finished. That was it. What he’d feared. The unnatural feeling he got passing through the camp- so much like any refugee camp anywhere, but without the noise and chaos of kids running around. That’s what he’d felt was missing.

“ _No_ kids? None?” Dean spoke quietly. His brows knitted together in that way that told Sam he was thinking hard and making connections. He could tell the moment Dean put it together.

Davis sighed heavily and suddenly seemed a lot older. “We’ve got two doctors here. Both very good, but they’re not virologists. They do the best they can, and have tried coming up with a cure- but face it- were working under primitive conditions here- there’s not much hope they’ll be successful.”

Sam half expected that this would be how it all ended. Some kind of cosmic kiss-off, a foot to the balls farewell- more like a just messing with you joke played by God, or whoever had taken charge when he gave up.

Dean wasn’t so apathetic, though. “Well, they’re working on it, right? Tell me you haven’t just given up on trying to fix this?”

Davis leaned back. “We’ve got four pregnant women here, Dean. The last woman who gave birth saw her baby die within a few hours. Painfully, I might add. You want me to ask these women to submit to a bunch of tests when we don’t even know if we can get anthing like a working treatment? Just get their hopes up for nothing?”

Dean was incensed.”That’s exactly what you do, general. You get everybody together and tell them that they need to get their shit together or there won’t BE a human race in a few years. Then you tell these women they need to help you find a cure for the sake of humanity- and while you’re at it, you get those dumbasses in camp to lay off the booze and partying because you need them to help save themselves, or you’ll throw them in the god damned clink. And I’d do it, too!”

Davis looked embarrassed to be shown up by the younger man, because Yeah- Dean had taken him to the woodshed and spanked him red- figuratively speaking. Then the corner of his mouth turned up. Dean managed to command respect from everyone.

“If we’re gonna get greenhouses up before October first, we need to get the civilians onboard, too” Sam said, backing Dean up. The day caught up with him and he stifled a huge yawn.

“You two are probably dead on your feet after that trip. Let’s say we have Cas here show you to a room and we’ll spend some time tomorrow discussing it.” He patted them on the shoulder and walked them out.

Dean caught up with Milo and Ozzy not far from where they’d left him. The kid was laying with Ozzy on a tiny patch of dried grass. For a second, Dean felt like he was seeing Sam as a boy. The kid swung around to greet Dean, and yeah- the innocent look in his eye, the long hair, it really could be Sammy. He cleared his throat.

”Hey there, kid. You have a good time playin’ with Ozzy?”

“He’s a awesome dog!” Then he smiled so brightly that Dean looked like he was gonna puke. The kid’s smile faltered a bit but burned again when Dean made a nevermind motion and pointed at his stomach.

“You wanna be our dog sitter while we’re here? Gonna be real busy and Ozzy needs walking and exercise.” Sam thought Dean was about the kindest man he knew at that moment. Of course, they did need some way to keep Ozzy occupied, but still, it was nice to watch. Dean told the kid to come by first thing in the morning and he’d get him all set up. Milo walked away with a spring in his step and grinning like a loon.

“That was nice.”

“Huh? Just being practical. No biggie. C’mon Sammy. Let’s go find some grub,” Dean said, patting him on the arm.”I’ve got a feeling these bastards are gonna work us half to death.”

Sam wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up with a good book and Dean on the couch watching RoboCop on DVD. Holy crap. They looked around, wondering what the hell they’d gotten themselves into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> xoxo


	20. Chapter 20- Third Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Cas is back in the picture, Sam begins to wonder about things between him and Dean.

Chapter 20- Third Wheel

Sam was kicked back in the spartanly furnished room they assigned him, freshly washed and flipping through a dogeared copy of People magazine someone had left on the nightstand in a poor attempt to make him feel comfortable. It seriously depressed him, looking at all the plastic Hollywood people who were now long dead and gone.

He’d been sitting with Cas and Dean in the mess hall, eating some kind of nasty casserole dish. These people definitely needed to get some fresh vegetables added to their diet. All the carb-y canned goodness played havoc on the digestive system. _Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt_. He’d eaten out of cans for two years, but at least he’d try some beans or carrots once in a while. Jesus.

He couldn’t take one more minute of Cas making moon eyes at Dean. Christ, yeah, it had been a while, but looking at Cas, he felt a little like he was the third wheel on a date. Might as well be invisible the way Cas pretty much ignored him while hanging on Dean’s every word. Dean of course- oblivious as hell. When Cas excused himself to hit the head -‘relieve my bladder’ he’d said, sounding prissy and uptight, Dean turned to him with a look.

“Dude, what crawled up your ass?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? It’s pretty damn obvious something’s up with you. You’re acting like a stuck up bitch.”

“Nothing’s up. I’m fine.” No way in hell he was going to let on it bothered him. Cas knew, he was sure of it. Knew years ago that it got under Sam’s skin when he’d come at a moment’s notice for Dean’s prayer but not Sam’s. Now here he was, looking happy and healthy and so god damned _human_. Sam sipped on his water and tried to act nonchalant.  

“Whatever, dude.” Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. He wasn’t falling for it. They played this game often and both knew the rules.

“Well, okay. Fine.” Sam put down his glass and leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “Doesn’t it raise a red flag with you that Cas is here? I mean, what are the chances?”

“That’s what’s got your panties in a twist? I thought you were happy to see him. Yeah, maybe the odds of him being here is like the best hand of Texas Hold-Em ever, but dammit, Sam, this is Cas we’re talking about. He’s practically family.”

Right. So much like family that he’d nearly killed Sam by tearing down the wall in his head, releasing every horrible memory of being Lucifer and Michael’s chew toy during his decades in the Cage. Dean might be able to forgive Cas, but fuck, how was he supposed to do that? He’d tried to, God knows, but that wasn’t something easy to overlook. He raised Sam from the Cage to be part of his twisted plan to crack open Purgatory – had Dean really forgotten that?  Looks like he did – and that hurt. No matter how much Dean wanted him to believe that it was Sam before anyone, just seeing Cas again made him doubt it all over again.

Maybe he should try harder to forgive, but forget? No fucking way. There was no forgetting something like that.

Cas came back to the table, all smiles, and it wasn’t two minutes before he and Dean were reminiscing about some trip they took to a _– strip club?-_ did he hear that right?

After watching a few minutes, Sam knew exactly what it was- flirting. Pure, old fashioned flirting. And Dean, that idiot, was smiling back and laughing and doing all the typical flirty things- the side eyes, the little bro punch on the shoulder- . Jesus, it was making him sick.

He excused himself, complaining of a headache. Not that it wasn’t entirely false. The whole day was stressful as hell and the icing on the cake with Dean and Cas made him long for some peace and quiet. Maybe he wasn’t used to being around so many people. Maybe it was that ache he felt when he looked at how Dean couldn’t seem to get enough of Cas. Either way, he needed to get out of there.

\---

It was late when he woke up to a knock at the door.  Sam stumbled over and opened it, letting in Dean, who followed him in as he laid back down. Dean took a seat at the desk, propping his feet up. He was flushed and relaxed, and Sam knew he’d had a few.

“Dean. What’s going on?”

“Nothin’. Been drinkin’.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Sam looked at his watch. “Dude, it’s 2 in the morning-“

Dean pulled a flask out of his jacket pocket and took a pull. “It was good seeing Cas today, wasn’t it?”

Sam rolled on his side, facing Dean. “Yeah.” Seeing that wistful look on Dean’s face was nearly irresistible. “Hey man, sorry for earlier. I don’t know what got into me.”

Dean waved his hand and made a sound of dismissal. “No biggie. Man, I tell ya, Cas is a whole lot more fun since they clipped his wings. Practically drank me under the table.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Wow. That’s hard to believe.”

“I know.”

“Look, Dean. I think we oughta get done whatever Davis wants done and get the hell out of here. Go home. Don’t you think so?”

Dean was quiet for a few seconds. He seemed to be considering the question, then came out with, “They got a pretty decent bar here, believe that? Couple a pool tables, but there’s no sense hustling anyone, since about the only thing here worth anything is weed, liquor or fuel. One dude offered me a round with his girl. Can ya believe that? For gallon of diesel. Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah. This place is pretty fucked up.”

“No shit.”

He unlaced his boots and began toeing them off. “Cas thinks we should stay here-“

“Dean-“

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? They need help. Fuck. Davis seems like an okay dude, but he’s let things get outta hand.” He pulled off his jacket. ”They want me to head up camp security.”

“What? You said no, right?” No, shit, no. This was not a good thing.

“Well, what can I say, Sam? Just go fuck yourselves? I can’t do that. Not until they get their ducks in a row. You can work on the solar systems and get the greenhouse up and running in the meantime. There’s so much needs to be done.”

Sam thumped his head into the pillow. “Dean, we said two weeks, maybe three at the most. I don’t want to stay here.”

Dean nudged him over on the full size bed and lay down. “Sammy. Give it a shot. Shit, man, there’s people here. Cas. They need us.”

Great. So now he was gonna be guilted into staying. He missed the house, the serenity of sitting on the back porch drinking his coffee. Feeling calm and at peace. Trading it for noisy, dirty and hopeless? It was no contest.

Dean closed his eyes. “M’gonna crash here, kay?” So just like that, it was like old times, two big men in a too-small bed. Sam let it soak into him, this feeling of closeness. It was what he’d traded for, living with his _want_ and taking what Dean would dole out to him.

He turned out the light and in less than a minute was already asleep.

\---

Sam was riding in the Impala, the glare of the midday sun making his arm hot where it hung out of the open window. Dean pulled a cassette tape from under the seat and held it up.

“Little Metallica?”

“Sure, whatever. Don’t care.”

“Ooh, somebody’s grouchy today.”

“Cut it out, Dean. I don’t wanna be fucked with.”

Dean put the tape in and adjusted the volume. Started humming along and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

“You are seriously the moodiest motherfucker I’ve ever met, y’know that?” Dean managed to grin over the insult.

“Dean. Not kidding. Just drop it.”

Dean smirked and pressed on the gas. The car lurched and went faster. Sam let the familiar bass line wash over him, soothing in its repetition. Dean reached over the seat for something. He tossed it to Sam saying _think fast_ and chuckling.  It was a red apple, round and ripe.

“Okay really. What’s on your mind?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Dean. I really don’t wanna talk about it, especially in my dream. “He bit into the apple, juice running down his chin. _Damn_ , it was a good apple. How long since he’d had fresh fruit? “This is a dream, right? You hate apples.”

“Damn, alright. Alright. Forget about it, Princess. I guess I’m just imagining you emoting like hell over there. You’ve had a stick up your ass since we got to Camp Hope. I just wanna know what’s going on.” Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I can help.”

Sam sighed, chewing slowly. “Guess it’s just a lot to handle all at once. And this thing with Cas-“

“What thing?”

“Dean. Come on. I wasn’t seeing things. Cas- he’s like, all over you. I think-“

Dean looked at Sam, his half smirk plastered on his face, waiting. “He’s all over me? What-“

“No, you know what I’m talking about. I think- no- I know he’s got a thing for you.” Dean made a sound of dismissal, making Sam shake his head. “Dean, he does. You know he does. Probably has since the first time you saw him.”

“Christ, Sam, it’s not like that.”

“I wish I was wrong. I don’t think I am.”

“We’re just close. Dude, you know how much we’ve been though. Makes you get close to a person. Hell, he’s practically family.”

“Dean, you say that. That he’s family- but – “ He sighed and looked out the window, finally accepting what he knew was always the truth, “I see the way you look at him.”

“You’re crazy. This is Cas you’re talking about.”

“Crazy? Yeah, maybe. But I don’t think so. I think you maybe have a thing for him, too. Had it back in the old days, even.”

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that, Sam? I’m at the Camp to do a job, not any other reason. Cas being there is awesome. Amazing. I won’t say I’m not glad as hell to see him. Don’t make this some kind of you versus Cas thing, because that’s complete bullshit.”

“So you’re saying you’re not attracted to him?”

“What? No! It’s Cas.” Dean shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “He’s not a bad looking dude. Maybe a little nerdy looking, but –“

“See. Knew it.” Sam pulled his face into a pout and looked away.

“Oh hell, don’t play drama queen. All I’m saying is he’s a good looking guy. You’re acting like a sixteen year old girl.”

“Don’t, Dean.” Sam ground out.

“You are. You’re still mad because I won’t accept this crush you have on me-“

“It’s not a crush, Dean! It’s not a fucking crush!” Sam felt the rage run through him. Nowhere to go, stuck in the god damned car, wanting to hit something- Dean- fuck. Something. “Let me out. Stop the fucking car and let me out.”

“Sam- what the hell?”

“STOP the motherfucking car, Dean!”

Dean pulled the car to the shoulder and Sam wrenched the handle and threw open the door. By the time he’d slammed it closed, he was already walking away in fury. Dean wasn’t too far behind him.

“Christ, Sam- get back in the fucking car.”

 _Yeah. Keep on ordering me around, asshat, because that works so well._ He let his long legs carry him further from the car with each step.

“Sam!”

“Sam, it’s a fucking dream. Where the hell do you think you’re gonna go?” Dean yelled. It made him pause. Stopped- but panting from the exertion and emotion. He turned to face his brother.

“You notice how since you got better you’re back to treating me like the dumb little brother? Like the last three years didn’t happen- me being there for you because you were too fucking sick to take care of yourself? Me keeping you alive? _I did that_. I did that, _Dean._ All by myself, because you couldn’t – or wouldn’t. So don’t treat me like a kid anymore, alright?”

Dean just looked at him with confusion on his face. _Oh, hell no- don’t tell me he doesn’t get it. Not one’s that fucking stupid._

 

“We’re not going back to that, Dean. No fucking way. I won’t put up with it. You wanna pretend nothing happened between us – fine- stick your head in the sand. But don’t you ever, ever dare to treat me like I can’t make a good decision or just dismiss what I’m telling you.”

“I don’t do that, Sam-“

“You do it all the time, Dean! “ Sam walked up and stood in Dean’s personal space, yelling down at him. “I told you there was something squirrelly about seeing Cas here, you just blew me off!”

Dean rolled his eyes and turned away. “I knew this was about Cas-“

“You want him, Dean? Is that what you want?”

“Well at least he doesn’t give me the shit you do.” He turned back to Sam. ”You want to know if I want Cas? No. Not really. But fuck, what if I did? It’s not like there’s a lot of women around, is there? Everything’s changed Sam, you said it yourself. He’s from the old days. I miss that- I missed him. We have something – you don’t know-“

“Right. Your more profound bond.” Sam said bitterly. “What about me, Dean? What do you feel for _me?”_

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t get it, do you? We’re never going there. I told you that once already, but you just don’t seem to get the message. _I’m not fucking my brother_.” Sam flinched at the words. “Yeah, see? It still means something, don’t it? Get it through your fucking head.”

Sam didn’t know how exactly it happened but he was throwing punches at Dean, who took one to the jaw, but managed to tackle Sam and they went down swinging at each other.  Sam found himself on the ground under Dean, who drew back his arm and smashed it into his face.

Suddenly Sam woke up, hot and sweaty; the bedsheets twisted around his body, and his breathing pitched and uneven. He threw his head back onto the pillow and stared at the ceiling. The ache in his chest was always there; a constant reminder of what he couldn’t have. Thinking about his dream, he felt that lump in his throat again and the horrifying way he wanted to tear up thinking about Dean. Christ, he was a god damn pussy. Seriously. Fuck. It was simple enough, just let it go – find someone else, or just work, stay busy and not think about it. Not think about Dean and Cas. Right. Dean and Cas.

His dream was really the confirmation. He knew it deep down- just didn’t want to own it- that maybe Dean really wouldn’t ever be okay with them as more than brothers. Hell- it was even hard for him to think of it- to say _incest_ in his mind. He was still working through it. It sounded wrong if he thought of it being anyone but him and Dean. For them, it seemed _right._ Something was seriously weird about that.

And yet, he was okay with it. But Dean was not. Looked like would never be. What the hell else was there, but to be his brother and suck it up. Because like it or not, first and foremost, they were brothers and he would never, ever give that up. Not until he or Dean was dead.

He rolled over and pushed his pillow into shape. He could hear Dean's steady breathing next to him and he wanted to reach over and put his arm around him, but - well, no. Of course, no. It just made him sadder. Closing his eyes, he resolved to change their dynamic before he went out of his mind. The last thought as he drifted back to sleep was, _Dean_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a long, drawn out chapter. I had a hard time with this section. Forgive!


	21. Chapter 21- Not Even Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam feels left out and lonely and stops for a few drinks at the last and only bar left in the world. He's feeling pretty sorry for himself.

Chapter 21 – Not Even Close

Sam was nursing a beer in the run down little shack that served as the camp watering hole, listening to some jukebox Britney Spears shit from ten years ago and wondering why he bothered to come out on a night when he was so bone tired that all he really wanted was to sleep.

He’d set up a bare bones power grid for the bar with a diesel generator and a few solar panels and batteries the week before. It seemed everyone agreed the bar needed power before the anyplace else did. _These fuckers have their priorities severely out of order_ , he thought for the umpteenth time.

As he sat there in the dim light of the candle on his table, he could make out the sizeable crowd of mostly men, filling the makeshift dance floor. It was kind of funny how easily homophobia slipped away when all that was left was mostly a bunch of horny, lonely guys. There were couples dancing, arms around each other, grinding to the music. Watching them, he felt a little _(a lot)_ lonely and sort of turned on. _Lonely and horny_ , he laughed to himself, _a walking cliché._

A couple of women were hanging out at the bar, holding court over their own little band of groupies. There weren’t many women in camp, and most of them were claimed as wives and kept well hidden. If he was inclined, Sam thought he could write a kick-ass paper on the return of the patriarchy. Women here had lost a lot of ground. But hell, they were alive, as long as it lasted, so damn, what was the point of worrying about it. He was getting cynical as fuck, wasn’t he?

Over the last few days, he’d worked his ass off, to the point of exhaustion, practically- and made every effort to avoid Dean, and by extension, Cas- who was never too far behind. It was easy to do. Dean was right, there was a lot of work to be done. Not that these lazy assholes couldn’t have researched and done all this shit months ago. It burned his ass that he had to be the one to do it, but whatever, get the place in some kind of working order and then he was out of there.

Every once in a while a guy from his work detail would come by and say hello, buy him a beer or just tip his cap and walk by. He’d gained a lot of respect just by being one of the Winchesters- and General Davis had called an assembly to announce that he was going to head up a detail for camp improvements and Dean was the new head of security.

That was a colossal bag of shit right there. The moment Dean had shown up in uniform, weapon strapped to his leg, he knew it was over between them. Might even mean they’d never move home together. Because Sam knew, looking at him, that Dean had found it. Something that filled that need to make things right- to take care of people. Save them.

Because there were no more monsters. Nothing to kill and hunt- and Dean was nothing if not a soldier. Always was and always would be. He’d shrivel up and blow away if he didn’t have a mission, and here it was, all tied up in a pretty bow made of camo with an armband saying Security on it.

Sam finished his beer and before he set the bottle down, a glass of whiskey appeared on his table, courtesy of a young blond haired guy on his detail.

“Hey Sam. You drinking alone tonight?”

Aw, fuck. Not in the mood.

“Yeah. Pretty much.” Maybe he’d just move on.

“I wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed working with you. I’m really learning a lot.” The kid was so obvious it hurt.

“Not that big a deal. You’re doing a good job, though. Appreciate that.” No sense being a dick to the guy. He’s just trying to be nice. Or get laid. Maybe both. He gestured for the kid to sit.

“I’m looking forward to that mission into the city. That’s gonna kick ass. Thanks for taking me.” Sam had organized a group to head into Colorado Springs for scavenging more solar panels, generators and fuel. He called it a scavenger hunt, they called it a “mission” which he thought pretentious and smacked of military overkill. Dean was all over his ass about what kind of security he needed and Sam was pretty sure he intended to come along.

He sipped the whiskey, which was raw and not very good. “I wouldn’t get too worked up about it. Just going to pick up a few things.” You’d think after a week of working his fucking _ass_ off, he could get one god damned night free.

“Look, uh, Bobby-“

“Robby.”

“Right, uh. Robby. Look. Not trying to be rude, here, but I’m not talking about work, ‘kay?” _That’s your cue to shut up._

Robby looked down and blushed like a schoolgirl. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.“  He looked back up at Sam and suddenly Sam felt a little jolt of something. Desire, maybe? “Hey, uh. You know, I’m not really used to doing this, but, uh- wanna dance?” Robby asked.

Sam laughed, then felt bad because he could tell it hurt the kid’s feelings, the way his face crumpled a little. But shit, it was funny because it was the end of the world, and he was getting asked to dance.

“Dude, I’m sorry- it’s just- It struck me as funny. Sorry.” He smiled at the kid. Really was a pretty nice looking kid, even if he was a little on the skinny side. Then he heard a loud bark of laughter and he froze.

In the corner table sat Dean and Cas, and evidently Cas said something fucking hilarious, because Dean was laughing in that full-bodied way he had and was wiping the tears from his eyes. Cas was smiling warmly at Dean and leaning forward, his hand on Dean’s forearm.

“Yeah. Let’s dance. Why not.” He stood and pulled the slender form of Robby in his wake. As they passed Dean’s table, he felt two sets of eyes bore into him. Go ahead and look, motherfucker, because no matter what you say, you know you want this. _At least once you did._

Dean looked good. Damn good, in a navy Henley and jeans. Still wore those heavy ass motorcycle boots, but he’d changed out of the uniform, thank God, and had his hair cut short again and messed up and spiky like he used to wear it back in the day. It physically hurt to look at him.

Dean smiled, nodded and waved to him as he passed. A low and growly, _Sam_ as they walked by. Cas said nothing; just looked.

Sam took the kid by the hand and pushed himself into the throng of dancers. He pulled Robby close, hands wrapped around his hips, rubbing their bodies together to some song he’d never heard of. It was hot as hell on the dance floor, but he danced, grinding up against Robby, letting him run his hands down his back and over his ass, squeezing, and he felt himself get hard.

He pulled the kid in close, leaned in and bit him at the junction when neck met shoulder, feeling him shudder and moan. Well fuck, it was nothing worse than the rest of the crowd, he thought, as he caught glimpses of hands roaming and mouths pressed together.

“Let’s get out of here” he said, bending down close to Robby’s ear in order to be heard. They worked through the dancers and made their way out the back door. A few people were hanging around, smoking a joint and chatting. Sam dragged the kid’s skinny form behind him, looking for a quiet spot to drill him into the wall.

He found a place in the shadows, fairly private, but still within hearing distance of other couples who had the same genius idea he did. It amused him that the camp mostly ran on sex and booze. The bar was ground zero on that point and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out several couples fucking up against the building and on the ground. It was distasteful, but he was too pissed off and horny to give it much thought. Just wanted to fill that pretty little blond full of his cock and maybe that would give him some fucking peace.

Sam pushed the guy against the wall, kissing him roughly and rubbing his hands over the kid’s dick and ass. They were both after it desperately, and it was a race to drop their pants and with a short interlude for Sam to roll on a condom, they were soon fucking, Sam balls deep in the blonde’s tight ass.

Sam fucked him. He punished that sweet ass but all he could picture was Dean. Dean sitting there with the smug and smiling Castiel. Sam pounded against Robby, as if that would drive the image of Dean from his brain. The kid was moaning and leaning back into each thrust and Sam came hard. It was all he could do to keep from calling out Dean’s name.

He pushed Robby back against the wall and dropped to his knees, taking his dick in his mouth and blowing him. He felt tawdry and soiled, but in a way it was just what he wanted. When the kid came, he swallowed most of it and wiped off the rest that dripped off his chin. _Fuck, he needed a drink. Now._

Sam put his clothes together and nodded at Robby before turning to go back into the bar. Awkward? Yeah. Did he really care? No. Not in the least.

He pushed up to the bar and ordered a whiskey, neat and was digging out a joint to pay for it when he felt a knock against his elbow.

“Jesus, you smell like dick.” The languid, post-sex haze cleared instantly.

“And?” He brought the whiskey up to his mouth and looked at Dean over the glass.

“What the hell are you doing? Fucking out back, Sam? Really?” Dean leaned an elbow on the bar and motioned to the bartender for his own drink. Of course, it was on the house, Sam noticed.

He rolled his eyes. “Dean. You’re harshing my mellow. Don’t you need to go keep Cas company?”

“Aah. He’s fine.” Dean looked at him with a slight tilt of his head. “I’m gonna ask you again. What the hell are you doing?”

Sam smiled a little at his brother. “It’s no biggie. Just copping a piece of ass. Nothing more than you’ve done a hundred times before.” Really didn’t need this right now.

Dean seemed to consider that, then nodded a little and raised his brows. “Yeah, but I was always a bit of a slut. You’re a serial monogamist, so I see this kind of behavior and it raises red flags for me, y’know?”

“Well, no need to concern yourself. I’m fine. Just _getting laid, alright?_ Can’t have you getting all the action.” He drank from his glass, and paused to look appreciatively at one of the scantily clad women who sashayed past.

Dean scowled at him and sipped his drink in silence.

“Picking ‘em pretty young, aren’t you?”

He really couldn’t believe it. “Leave it, Dean. M’not bothering anyone. Go back to your boyfriend and let me enjoy my drink in peace.”

“Christ, you’re an asshole tonight.” Dean shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It just pissed Sam off even more. The relaxed feeling he had was long gone, leaving him feeling as taut as a bowstring.

“Back at’cha.” Watching Dean walk away left him feeling more bleak and empty than before. 

What the hell _was_ he doing?

He had no fucking clue.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Thanks for reading, sweet people! If you like this fic, please rec it to your friends. I'd love to see more readers  
> xoxo


	22. Chapter 22- If You Love Someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is confronted by Dean and Cas, and learns the hardest thing to do when loving someone is to let them go.

Chapter 22- If You Love Someone

 

Sam was back in his room, nursing a bottle of Jack Daniels he’d picked up on one of his scavenger hunts. Sitting on the bed, watching shadows play on the wall thrown by the flickering candle on his bedside, he took a long toke on his joint. Blowing it out, he felt the tension finally starting to dissipate. He watched the curling smoke with detachment.

Every day it got harder to be here, he thought, which was funny as shit, considering it was his dream that told them to come to Colorado. If he would have ignored the notion, he’d still be pulling Dean around on some county road right now. Dean would still be depending on him. Needing him. Maybe he’d be better by now and would be loving Sam the way Sam loved him. He wondered about that possibility more than he cared to admit.

But here he was, basically just free labor in the Last Outpost of all that is, while Dean’s star kept rising higher and higher in this little burg’s hierarchy. Not that he begrudged him that. God knows, Dean deserved more than they could ever repay him for not just this, but saving these fucker’s asses more times than they’d ever know. If they crowned him the king, Sam would be there to be the first to kneel. Because he was worth it. 

Damn. He needed to stop.

Dean spent most of his time with Cas and Major Brent. Sam didn’t see much of the General, since he was working on site nearly every day- but once a week or so he attended meetings at the HQ, and that’s when it was impossible to avoid the reality of how it was with Dean now.

Dean, with his impeccably clean and well-fitting uniform. The way he stood up, self-confident and sure when it was his turn to give a briefing. Now that he was given the rank of Major, the only ones who didn’t answer to him were Maj. Brent and Davis himself. Sam marveled at how comfortable Dean looked in front of the assembled group; the militia members and the representatives from the civilians, too. Dean was one of those guys you instantly felt you could put your trust in. He just exuded capability and confidence, and fuck all, that was worth everything at a time like this.

On the other hand, Sam realized, too, that the higher Dean rose, the further Sam fell. He was fucking miserable, and every day was him trying to just make it through until he could get back to his room and have a few drinks or smoke some weed and let the tightness in his chest ease.  When he went more than three days without seeing Dean, he found himself nervous and on edge and took it out on his people, making their lives hell. Ironically, when he did see him, it made him sick with jealousy and anger. Sam was fucked, either way. Miserable and fucked.

He poured himself another glass of JD. Hit the joint again, watching the glow of the cherry in the dim light.

He didn’t give a shit about the civilians. Well, okay, maybe a part of him did, but not as much as he thought he should. It was great that they were finally doing something to help themselves, the lazy fucks. Dean was instrumental in that, not putting up with bullshit when it came to filling his detail with able bodies.  Once people saw things improving, it kickstarted something and now there were all kinds of projects going on; sanitation planning, winterizing, hunting parties, shit- even a bunch of guys who were rounding up some cattle, trying to make a go at ranching. It was pretty cool. He smiled at that.

It wouldn’t mean squat if they didn’t find a way to deal with the Croat virus, though. Nobody wanted to talk about that, but it was on everyone’s mind. After the camp meeting where Dean had laid down the harsh truths of the situation, things changed a little for the women. More cherishing and less ownership, in a nutshell. Not that it was even in the same realm with what had gone before, but at least no one was pimping out the last hopes for humanity anymore.

Fuck, he was high. He smirked. Stone drunk and high as shit and alone. All alone, man. Life sucked.

If he didn’t love Dean so much he’d leave. Only stayed because he couldn’t let him down again. Promised he wouldn’t.

The pounding on his door startled him so bad he nearly fell off the bed.

“Yeah-”

Dean came in, followed by Cas. Neither looked happy to see him.

“You didn’t show up for work today.” Dean let the statement hang there.

“Yeah. Didn’t feel so good. S’aright. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

_What the fuck you looking at, Cas?_

“This has got to stop, Sam. You gotta stop, man.”

_And? You’re kidding, right?_

Sam narrowed his eyes, putting two and two together.

“Is this an intervention? Cause I’m pretty sure I don’t need one, Dean. Or the lecture I know you have up your sleeve-“ He smirked at Dean and side-eyed Cas with a look that said, _See that, mofo?_

“Look, I get it. The drinking, the getting high. Fucking anything that moves 24/7. I get it. I want you to finish all this so you can get the hell out of here, too. But Sammy- this ain’t working. You see that, right?”

Sam sighed and go up from the bed, placing the roach in the ashtray. He looked at Dean, then at Cas.

“You two. You never fucking, stop, do you? This your idea, Cas?” he stared at the ex-angel, who had the good grace to blink and look away. _Right. Just like he thought. His prints were all over this thing, too._

“Sammy- you see what you’re doing to yourself?”

“Don’t _Sammy_ me, now, Dean.  I really don’t know what gives you the right to be here and talk to me like this.  S’not like I’m bothering you. Either of you.” He turned his head. “Go find a place to snuggle and leave me alone-“

Sam felt Dean grab his arm in a vicious hold. _When the fuck had his grip gotten so strong?_ “Let go-“

“No, Sam. No. You’re still my brother, even when you’re acting like a douchebag.” He thrust Sam onto the bed, which was easy enough given his intoxicated state. “Fuck all, Sam, I don’t understand you one bit!”

“No! You don’t. You really, don’t Dean. That’s the whole point.” He drug his hand through his lank, dirty hair. “If you understood me, we wouldn’t be here now. We’d be home, where we belong.”

Dean’s mouth was set in a hard line. Sam could see how much he wanted to hit him, and he narrowed his eyes, _willing_ him to do it. _Fucking, come on, do it, you prick._ Instead, Dean turned away, reaching for the door.

“Cas- see if you can talk some sense into him before I beat his ass.” He slammed the door on his way out.

Cas just stood there, looking at him. Inscrutable.

“What?”

“I'm just wondering why you do this to yourself. And to Dean- who just wants the best for you.”

Sam laughed bitterly. “Ri-ight. He wants the best for me. I’m pretty sure he wants the best for _him_ , Cas. I’m embarrassing him, that’s all. Once I go back home, he’ll be fine.”

“Why do you insist on punishing him, Sam? You’ve done that from the moment I first met you.”

“Do we really want to talk about this? I can pull some shit out of my ass about you, too, angel dick. You haven’t exactly been on our side all the time we’ve known you. You’re a devious motherfucker and I don’t trust you as far as I can throw your feathery ass.” He glowered at the former angel. Cas managed to look guilty. Probably more of his act.

“Dean has forgiven me. Just like he’s forgiven you, Sam. All he wants is for you to be happy. It’s not his fault he can’t give you what you want.”

Sam froze. His guts icy with dread. Had Dean been talking to Cas about him? The thought of them in bed, discussing his twisted love for his brother made him nauseous.

“What are you- what did Dean tell you?”

Cas sat down in the desk chair and interlaced his fingers. He looked at Sam, unwaveringly.

“I’ve always known it, Sam. Ever since I raised Dean, and touched his soul, I knew how he felt about you. When I took the madness of the Cage from you as my own, it confirmed what I’d know for a long time about your feelings for your brother.”

“He has feelings for me?” A bubble of hope formed.

“You know he’s not prepared to act on those feelings, Sam.  May never be, don’t you see that? Can’t you let him be at peace with it? He’s doing his best- by you, this camp, these people-“

“What about himself, Cas? What about what he wants- or are you worried then he won’t want _you?”_

“What I want is not of import. Dean is-“ He shook his head slightly, as if he couldn’t find the right word. “He’s an unusual man. When I thought everything good was gone from the world, he shows up to make me reevaluate everything. He gives me hope that there’s a happy end for all of us.” He looked at Sam, his earnest blue eyes willing him to understand.

“Christ, you’re in love with him.”

Great. Just great. He wanted to laugh and punch the fuck out of Cas.

Cas looked away. “I’ve always felt close to your brother. You know that. But as an angel, the feelings- they were intense, but not like- “  He stopped, searching for the right words. “It’s different now.”

It was the Pit all over again. Sam felt like he was falling into the void. Twisted more-than-brotherly love up against the devotion of an ex-angel who saved you from Hell? He didn’t stand a snowball’s chance. Shoulders slumped in defeat, Sam looked at Cas.

“Does he love you?”

Jesus, he didn’t want to know. Really, really didn’t want to.

“He hasn’t said anything. But- I have hopes he does. Or will.”

Cas looked like he was hurting. Part of him enjoyed that immensely, but deep down he knew it was petty. Cas wasn’t all that secure in how Dean felt either. Maybe he could take some solace in that. But Sam knew Dean deserved happiness. If he couldn’t have it with Sam, at least it should be with someone who loved him, appreciated him just as much.

“What do I do, Cas?”

”Please stop punishing him for it. He can no longer change his feelings any more than you can.”

The last of the anger drained from Sam. He felt empty. Lost. Rudderless.

“Yeah. Okay.”

There was nothing more to say, really.  

“Thank you, Sam.” Cas rose and moved to the door. “He loves you very much.”

Sam nodded. Pressed his lips together to keep the emotions in before he lost control of himself. He visibly straightened- taking the swelling feelings and locking them down – locking them the fuck down hard and deep. Icing that shit over, where it couldn’t hurt him anymore.

“Tell him I’m sorry, would you?”

Cas nodded and let himself out.

When the door clicked shut, Sam laid back on the bed. He was still for a moment, then reached for the bottle and the oblivion it promised.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was super angsty for me to write. Poor Sam. Oh man, I love to torture him. Don't worry. He'll be okay in the end.
> 
> I had to slip in the homage to Last Outpost Of All That Is by Gekizetsu, because of tmateotb. Thanks!


	23. chapter 23 - Doctor, Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam thinks he's learned to control his feelings about Dean. He meets a pretty young doctor who becomes his sounding board, as he tells her all his secrets. She wisely counsels him not to avoid the Elephant in the room.

Chapter 23- Doctor, Doctor

 

Sam ate his lunch like he did every day, sitting by himself at one of the mess hall tables, clearly not encouraging company. If the weather was nicer, he’d prefer being outside, but February in Colorado equaled cold and drafty, with lots of snow. Maybe once the storm cleared, he could take Ozzy out and play a little ball, or just go for a walk.

 “Did you see that caravan came in yesterday? Twenty-five? Where the hell we gonna put twenty-five? No, seriously-“

The raised voice came from a guy at the next table. Not on his detail, but Sam knew him. Bill Jones was kind of a dick. Always bitching about the other civvies. Didn’t matter that they needed every last human being they could get their hand on, he was still gonna complain.

“One of ‘ems a doctor, I hear. No. The pretty one – yeah. Me, too-“

Sam blocked them out and concentrated on his salad. For the hundredth time, he thanked the gardening gods and blessed the greenhouse. Life had vastly improved with the addition of something from the garden.

“Excuse me, mind if I sit here?”

He was startled out of his daydream. The woman holding the lunch tray was petite and dark haired. She was pretty in a genuine sort of way, not overly gorgeous or plain as a stump. He noticed that her hair floated around her head like a cloud. The new doc. Yeah, Jones was right. She was pretty.

“Suit yourself.” He kept on looking at his salad.

 She slipped onto the bench and started eating. They didn’t exchange a word for twenty minutes. Then she put down her fork and looked at him.

“Carla Austin.”

“Sam Winchester.” He liked her eyes. They were very kind. She looked at him like he was a precious curiosity.

“I know who you are. Castiel told me about you.” She was back to eating her lunch like she just hadn’t dropped a bombshell.

“Uh. Excuse me?”

She looked up, the kind brown eyes without guile. “Cas. Told me where to find you.” She held up a saltine and bit into it, then used it as a pointer. “Your brother is Dean, the SecOps commander?”

It took a moment to get his wheels under him. “Yeah. Forgive me, I’m at a loss what’s going on here. You want to bring me up to speed?” Everyone knew Dean was his brother. It was a weird feeling having someone ask about it.

“I just got in yesterday- sure you know that. Our party’s been on the road since August from Phoenix.” She speared a lettuce leaf. “I’m the most logical person I know, but damn, seeing that many people come together on a road trip because of a dream’s enough to shake your idea of sanity. I’m not sure how it works but we all got the same message- to come here. I’m still freaked about it.”

Sam listened to her. Watched her eat.  He wondered how long before that innocence was tarnished and she got to be the same hard ass person as the rest of Camp Hope.

He looked at his salad. She seemed nice. He didn’t want to know any more about her.

“He told me something very interesting about you, Sam.”

He looked at her, off balance and cautious. Just lifted his brow in a question.

“He said you have no trace of the Croatoan virus in you.” She put down her fork. “True?”

Sam sighed. He looked out into space, considering whether to answer or not. For a minute he wanted to ask what the hell was Cas doing talking about him, but he ended up letting it go. It wasn’t part of his new and improved persona. He stood up.

“It was really nice meeting you, Carla. I’ve got to get back to work now.” He left her staring at his retreating back.

\----

There was a knock on the door to his room. It was Cas, not surprisingly.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Cas. What can I do for you?” He leaned on the half open door.

“I was hoping you’d talk with Dr. Austin. She’s a very talente-“

“Uh, No. Don’t think so.  ‘Preciate it, though. Nice of you to think of me-“ He started closing the door.

“Wait, Sam- please…” but Sam had already closed it. He wasn’t rude. He just had a prior appointment.  Reaching into the drawer, he pulled out a bottle of bottle of Jack Daniels.

\---

Someone was knocking at his door again. Not as demanding as Cas. He guessed it was the Austin woman.

“H’lo. Figured it was you.”

“Um. Okay. Can I come in?”

He shrugged and turned away, leaving her to shut the door behind her.

“Y’wanna drink?

“Sure.”

“So what is it you and Cas need so bad. My blood, right?”

“How’d you know that?” She drank the JD like it was water.

“Not hard to figure out. You’re a doctor. Cas is determined to find a cure for the Croat virus. I have an immunity. Simple 2 plus 2 equals mind your own fucking business.” He swallowed the whiskey in one shot and glared at her.

“You don’t think you have an obligation to try to help?” She was pretty but he was already tired of her.

“Didn’t they tell you they tried for weeks to use my blood to make a vaccine? Wasn’t successful.” He refilled their glasses. “Cas doesn’t know when to give up.”

Carla took the glass and leaned back in the chair, her gaze measuring him. “I guess he just can’t give up until the end. I mean, he used to be an angel, right?”

Sam laughed.  “Angels are dicks, Carla. Cas included.”

She looked at him- the kind eyes sad. “You sound like you know a lot about that.”

He glanced from the side of his eyes and gave a little chuckle. “You have no idea.”

It was one of the oddest conversations he ever had. They weren’t really friendly, but not adversarial either. Mostly, it was just a recounting of how she , an immunologist and virologist at the Infectious Disease Research Center in Phoenix, was driven to make her way to Colorado after surviving the total and utter collapse of Phoenix to the angel/demon battles and the resultant Croat epidemic. It was almost as unbelievable story as how he and Dean managed to make it here.

“I’m not religious, you know.” She said, reaching for the Jack Daniels. “I mean. If you told me angels and demons existed, I would have told you that shit belongs in church, right?” She took a deep breath and shot back the whiskey. “But that night. When the angels fell-“

Something in her eyes made him think back to the life he had Before. Fuck. As soon as she said it, all he could think about was Dean wrapping his hand with that fucking bandana and telling him there was nothing past or present he’d put before Sam.  

“There’s a lot you don’t know. Angels and demons- just the tip of the iceberg.” _Jesus Christ. What the hell was he doing? Violating Winchester rule number 1. Never tell anyone the truth._ Except now the curtain was pulled back and everyone knew.

“Sometimes I think maybe I’m insane.” She looked at him. Looking like anything but. “Maybe I’m insane and I’m so insane I don’t even know it. That’s fucking crazy, right?” 

They looked at each other and giggled over the absurdity of it. In the back of his mind he wondered if she was right.

“I’ll come by the clinic tomorrow. If I can help, I will.”

She smiled at him, but it never reached her eyes, which were soft and sad. She left without a goodbye.

\---

Sam was leaving the weekly Ops meeting and halfway out the double doors, Dean caught up and stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Hey, man. Hold up-“

Sam stopped and looked at Dean. “Hey, Dean. What’s up? Everything okay?” His hazel eyes were full of concern.

Dean dropped his hand and shrugged, looking a little embarrassed.

“Aw, nothing, man. It’s just- y’know- haven’t seen you much lately.” He lifted his hand and rubbed it across the top of his head in a gesture that Sam knew meant he was nervous.

Sam smiled genially. “Oh, you know, just working a lot. Brent’s got a shit ton of projects and want’s em all done yesterday.” He shuffled his papers while Dean looked uncomfortable.

“Well – uh. Hey, you wanna get some dinner down at the Crossroads tonight? I heard Billy’s got some ribs smoking-.”

“Yeah, that’s really nice of you to ask, but I’ve already got plans. Listen- I’m running kind of late. Can we talk about this later? “ It was fucking amazing how even his voice sounded.

Dean’s face fell, and he nodded his head once. “Sure, man. No problem. Look, anytime you want to get together-“

Sam was smiling warmly. “Thanks, dude. Alright- you take care. Say Hi to Cas for me-“and he turned to sprint out the door, leaving Dean to stare after him wondering what the hell had just happened.

\---

Sam sat with Carla at a table at Crossroads. They were eating the amazing baby back ribs of Billy’s and waiting for the music to start. Sam looked up at the huge banner hanging across the dance floor: “Crossroads, Bar & Grill”. How ironic that now that there was no supernatural in the world, everyone was dying to embrace it. He had a sneaking suspicion who christened this place The Crossroads, too.

In the four weeks since Carla had arrived, Sam had spilled his guts to her, telling her everything about the life and times of the Winchesters, except for the Big Secret, of course.  She never seemed tired of hearing him talk, sometimes questioned- but mostly just sat there and listened, as he purged himself of all the doubt, guilt and emotion. As he told each story, he felt another piece of him lock away. When his story was over, he might be free. Finally at a place where nothing could hurt him anymore.

Carla was a friend. He tempered that in his mind. An acquaintance. His confessor. He liked her as a person, but felt no attraction to her, aside from her intelligent and logical mind. If he was a feeling man, he could do a lot worse than Carla.

“So after all you and Dean have been through, you don’t want to see him?”

He pursed his lips in irritation. “It’s not that I don’t want to see him. It’s more that- well- him and Cas-“

“You don’t like angels?” She gnawed on a rib and studied him.

“Hell, no, and you won’t either if you know what’s good for you.” He replied. “No. It’s hard to explain.”

“Because of Cas.” She said, looking at him with that pointed gaze.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. Because of Cas.” His face felt flushed and hot.

“How long have you know me, Sam, three, four weeks? And how many of these conversations have we had? A ton. I bet you didn’t know I have a Masters in Counseling and Psychology.” She picked up her drink and sipped on it. “I’ve seen a lot of shit, Sam. You’re shit is pretty epic, I won’t lie- and here’s the thing- I’m your friend. I’m really your friend. You need to stop tap dancing around the elephant in the room, okay? I’m your friend and I’m not going to stop being your friend. So stop fucking tapping, can you do that?”

He looked at her, the breath he was holding suddenly expelled. He swallowed, feeling vulnerable.

“Yeah. I can do that.”

She smiled at him, the kind eyes making him believe maybe-

“SAMMY! Bro!” Out of nowhere, he was crushed in a bear hug from behind. When Dean let go, he pounded Sam on the back so hard he saw stars.

Dean turned and released the full force of his Winchester charm on Carla. The beaming smile took her breath away for a moment until she saw the way Sam’s eyes shuttered until his mask was again firmly in place.

“This must be the famous Dr. Austin. I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to meet you. Cas has said so many nice things about you.” He looked her up and down as if he wanted to take a bite out of her. Part of her kind of liked that idea.

“Cas is very sweet. I didn’t know you two were together. That’s really great.”

Dean was a taken aback. “No- uh, we’re not _together_ -together, if that’s what you mean- “

That was Sam’s cue to snort or make a snarky comment, and Dean looked at him expectantly, maybe looking for a little rescue, but Sam seemed impassive- just watching the scene play out.

Dean laughed loudly. “Aw, Hell no. He’s more of a brother than anything. Right, Sam? Hey, man, help me out—“But Sam just sat there, looking.

Carla nodded, “Ahh. I see. Brothers.” She looked earnestly at Dean.

Dean stood and straightened his jacket. “Anyway, we’re grabbing a bite to eat and I just wanted to stop and say Hi. You guys enjoy your dinner. “He did a stupid little salute and was suddenly gone without another word.

Carla looked at Sam. They locked eyes and she smiled slowly.

“So I guess I just met your elephant.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> I appreciate all your notes and Kudos!  
> XOXO


	24. Chapter 24- Turnabout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's friend helps him see that despite what he thinks about himself, he's not a bad person. Angsty, teary.

Chap 24 - Turnabout

They were in the clinic and it was late. Probably should head back to his room, but hell, he got lonely just like everyone else and at least Carla didn’t seem to want anything from him besides his company - and  his analytical brain. She’d told him that much, at least. He got the feeling he made her feel like things were normal – like they could pretend for a little while that the world hadn’t gone to hell in a hand basket when they weren’t looking.

They were well into a bottle of Jim Beam and Sam was warm and loose. The illumination of the candles threw shadows on the walls. It almost could be taken for a romantic encounter, he thought with a little amusement, except he knew she had no designs on him. Shit, after the horrific story of her road trip- and she never was too specific- but he had a pretty good idea that there was probably a rape or some other sexual assault involved - he wondered, how the fuck she was able to function. She seemed to have a better capacity for denial than even he did, which was saying something.

Still, she was the most calming presence he knew at the camp, aside from Dean. And lately thinking of Dean wasn’t calming at all.

“You even paying attention?” she quirked her lips in a half smirk.

“Uh, okay, I’m busted. Say again?”

She played with her glass as she repeated, “I just wondered if Dean knows how you feel.”

“What- wow. What are you talking about-“he studied a tattered poster of sailboats taped to the wall. Kept his eyes glued to it because, fuck, they were not going to talk about this, were they?

She sighed softly, and he wasn’t looking at her, but he knew her well enough that there was an eyeroll coming.

“Quit playing, Sam. Not with me. ‘kay?”

Of course he knew instantly what she was talking about. Somehow he’d done something, or said something that let her put two and two together, and damn it, he could feel himself tense all over.

“Look Carla, uh, I don’t know what you think you know, but-“he felt sudden heat rise from his chest into his face and he knew he was blushing furiously. Fucking mortified.  His knee started bouncing nervously.

“It’s okay, Sam,” her voice like she was calming a skittish puppy or something. “I put it together some time ago and honestly? It’s not surprising that you’d have these feelings. I mean, Jesus, how you two grew up. And then, I mean, shit- you two have _died_ for each other. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around all of that- but damn it, Sam- it’s codependent as hell and fucked six ways from Sunday, but --it’s understandable. It doesn’t make you a bad person. You know that, right?”

What the fuck did she know? He was so screwed up and – damn it,still   _koo koo for Cocoa Puffs_. It wasn’t normal – he could never be normal, and he knew that- had known that for years.

“You don’t know me well enough to say that, Carla.” He kept his head turned away and felt a disturbing sensation of prickling in his eyes and nose and fought it back. Damn, drink made his emotions ride just a little too close to the surface. His voice came out like gravel. “I’ve done things. Bad things.”

“You’re not a bad person, Sam.” She repeated. She refilled his glass and he picked it up and drank, grateful for the chance to keep his shaking hands busy.

He felt a lump in his throat grow, and a building anger that this woman had the gall to think she had the ability to absolve him of his sins, to tell him he wasn’t the world class freak he knew he was- that he’d known since he was five years old. He kept his eyes on the wall thinking - _maybe If I don’t look at her I can keep it together_ , but the tenuous grip he had on his control was slipping fast.

“Look, I’m not kidding when I tell you that _you don’t_ _know me_. I’ve done things- hurt people. Jesus.”

He grabbed the bottle and drank straight from it, then slammed it back on the table. What the hell was she trying to do to him?

“I’ve hurt Dean and let him down when all he ever did was try to protect me – and, _fuck_ \- sacrificed _everything_ for me. He could have had it all, a wife, a kid – but he gave it up for me – _and I didn’t deserve it,_ Carla- I didn’t- I really didn’t-- but he’s always been there - knowing what I am-“

“Sam” She put her hand on his knee, stilling it. “It’s okay. You need to believe it- you’re not a bad person.”

He knocked her hand away and stood, raking his hands through his hair with shaky fingers.

“Stop fucking saying that! You can’t- damn it– _you don’t even know_ –I’ve always been a disappointment- a fuck up- and not in little ways, Carla, major, _majo_ r fuck ups-  epic end of the world kind of shit - it’s no wonder he can’t stand the idea of being with me.  Dean’s the hero. I’m just- Just-“He threw himself back in the chair, his chest heaving, hands trembling.

“Look at me, Sam.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Look at me- “She locked her compassionate brown eyes on his.” Is that what you think? That he doesn’t want you because you’re not good enough? It’s not true, Sam. You’re not bad. You’re not.”

He stopped and stared into her eyes.  Her expression was one of endless empathy and acceptance. The prickling in his eyes became painful. His vision blurred and he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“I never wanted to be bad,” He whispered, his voice rough as sandpaper.

She just sat there, smiling that sweet, soft smile like every goddamn thing in his fucked up world was gonna be okay.

“I’m not- I don’t want to be. I just- “his eyes flicked away then back to hers. “ _I always tried to do good_.”

His voice broke as he went on, the words spilling out from someplace deep and painful. ” I wanted to be the good son, make Dad proud, make Dean proud – but- everything always went bad, you know? _I tried so hard_ \- and everything I’ve ever done was for him - when I look at him- it’s like, there’s the reason I keep trying- you know? For him – But now, he thinks being with me is wrong- bad, I don’t know- _we finally have a chance to be happy_ \- It’s not fair, damn it- It’s not goddamn fair-“

He put his head down, eyes shut tight and shoulders bowed. Carla moved close and gathered him into her arms. _No,_ he thought, feeling all sharp edges and pain. She pulled him tighter, fighting his resistance, letting him drop his head into her neck. She stroked his back soothingly, up and down.

“It’s not fair, goddamn it, it’s not fucking fair- I‘m not a bad person, I’m not-”

“No, you’re not, Sam.”

He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, accepting the embrace- so maternal and foreign to him. It was a feeling missing since those days with Jess so many years ago, someone letting him feel safe enough to reveal the hurt little boy beneath the mask – and finally being truthful to himself that he wasn’t bad, evil or a freak- just a lonely soul who was so very much in need of love.

\---

Sam spent the next week avoiding Dean who seemed to be everywhere. The camp wasn’t big enough to really avoid anyone, and it was a pretty pointless effort, so he ended up mostly coming back from his work detail and hiding out in his room with a book, or more often, in the clinic with Carla.  The nice thing was having a calming presence to still the case of skittering nerves he seemed to have cultivated since he moved to the camp. Carla’s calm was a welcome balm to that ache that seemed to reside in his chest and just grew larger every time he saw Dean and Cas.

He watched Carla work, sometimes helping with simple tasks or calculations, but mostly sitting off to the side, hanging out and not doing much of anything.

She was prepping petri dishes, not looking at him, but keeping up a steady patter of conversation that was mostly inane and meaningless until he realized she had paused and glanced at him.

“What you need to do is get him away from Cas and have a heart to heart.” She turned and bent over to work with her head down.

“What? No. No- to accomplish what exactly?” he smirked, hoping to hide that little nervous flutter he felt whenever they talked about Dean.

Sam was still a bit freaked out that Carla knew everything. The Big Secret, the fact that he still yearned like hell for Dean down to his bones –she knew it and she was still his friend. He thought after his drunken confession of his crazy mixed up love for his brother she’d be running for the hills. Instead, she just accepted him unconditionally. He had no experience with that, and it was sort of intoxicating.

“Well, duh, to get him back, dumbass. You need to get him off by himself and convince him he needs to come home and be with you.”

Sam laughed, raw and with an edge of pain.

“Jesus Christ, haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said? He doesn’t want it, Carla. Doesn’t want me that way. I go over there and force him to face it and I might not have a brother anymore. Don’t you get it?”

God _damn_ woman, he thought.

“Yeah, Sam. I get it -but you need to get it. He looks at you, Sam. I know that look. Your elephant is in love with you, baby” she smiled at him and smacked him on the knee with her palm.

“He’s got Cas, now. What’s gonna make him change his mind? What do I do, ask him on a date and bring him flowers?” he said bitterly.

Carla looked at him with narrowed eyes. She’d had enough of his self pity, he could tell.

“Well, I doubt he’s into flowers, but yeah, asking him to dinner’s a damn good idea. Give him a little taste of what he’s missing – and trust me, the boy’s got it bad for you- Cas or no Cas.”

Sam grinned at her.

“You’re crazy, you know that? Crazier than me. Listen to us talking about this like it’s perfectly normal.”

Carla sighed and smiled softly.

“Things change, Sam. The world’s a whole lot different now. When you have someone love you like you’re the most precious gift ever, well- I don’t think we can afford to turn our backs on that anymore. Who knows what’s next for any of us.” She turned back to the table full of petri dishes. “Now if you get out of here and let me work I’d appreciate it.”

Sam stood and leaned over, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She really wasn’t a bad friend.

\---

The night was clear with a bright moon, but the bite of winter penetrated Sam’s jacket.  He wove his way through the warren of alleys between the trailers of Camp Hope, noticing how many more there were. Seemed like every day more people arrived; shocked, tired and broken, and it was a monumental job getting them settled in and assimilated into their little society. He looked at it all and just wanted to escape back to the house that he and Dean had started calling home.

As he walked the darkened perimeter of camp, Sam saw a figure in the distance. A guy playing a game of ball with Ozzy. By the time he’d walked up to him, Oz had fetched the ball a half dozen times. Dean watched him as he approached, taking a hit off the pipe in his fingers.

Dean nodded to him, his face a little vulnerable, or maybe he just imagined it. “How you doing, Sam?” He threw the ball extra hard and offered Sam the pipe. “It’s pretty good shit. Mellow you right out.”

Sam took the pipe and dug out his lighter. There never seemed to be a shortage of weed, he thought, inhaling and watching Ozzy search for the ball. “You’re out late.” Fuck, had their conversation ever been this awkward?

“Could say the same about you. Spending a lot of time with Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, lately. You could do a hell of a lot worse, that’s for damn sure.” He lit up the pipe, looking at Sam with bloodshot eyes.

“Come on. You know she’s just a friend.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m just saying- you know – seems like she’d be right up your alley, all brainy and what not.” He handed Sam the ball and he threw it for Oz, who wasn’t tired out, not by a long shot.

Sam was half drunk, Jack and Jim keeping him going most days, and was feeling the weed already. He looked at Dean, standing there acting like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was always so fucking good at lying to himself. It was annoying as hell. He turned into Dean’s space, his face inches from Dean’s. “You stupid fuck. You know that’s not what I want.” He looked into his eyes, at his mouth. Reaching down, he took the pipe from Dean’s slack fingers, his eyes never leaving his brother’s.

“You can keep pretending it’s not there - but we both know the truth, so don’t bother trying to play games with me, okay?” He lit the pipe and took a deep hit, and leaned forward, pressing his mouth against Dean’s.

Dean’s eyes widened, but he pressed back- opening his mouth and inhaling the smoke Sam was feeding him. Goddamn his lips felt as sweet as Sam imagined. His tongue slid out and against Dean’s, who gave a little start at first and then closed his eyes, surrendering to it.  Sam loved the feeling of Dean’s breath on him, his lips opening under his – wanting him, damn it--  and the tentative response of Dean, kissing him gently and then with more confidence- his tongue pushing back, testing, exploring- until they were left breathlessly panting – arms still by their sides, locked together by lips and tongue- mouths tasting of pot and liquor and need.

Sam broke away first. Jesus, Dean looked half fucked out already, his pupils wide and his lips red and slick with spit.  This was how he imagined it- Dean panting with want and Sam being the one standing there- no one else. He lifted his hand and rubbed a knuckle along Dean’s jaw.

“You don’t even know how amazing you are, do you?”

Dean’s eyes clouded with confusion. Surprisingly, he was still rooted on the spot, his breath condensing and mingling with Sam’s in the cold.

“Sammy- I-“

Sam actually felt a little sorry for him.  He leaned forward and dropped a much less heated kiss on Dean’s lips. Then he backed up a step. Christ, he was beautiful like that, even though he looked like he wanted to either run or punch Sam in the face.

“It’s alright, Dean. Don’t overanalyze it.”

Sam picked up the ball one last time and drew back his arm, throwing the ball as far as he could, up into the darkness, while Oz chased after it.

“I’ll see you around.”

With a soft smile and a barely there wink, he turned back the way he came and started walking, leaving Dean standing in the middle of the snowy, deserted field.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dread the endless tears of Sam- however I needed to have a moment where he could finally say, I'm good enough for Dean and I'm not going to sit around and whine anymore, I want him- and I want Dean to know he does, too.


	25. Chapter 25- Keep it Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's tired. A little cynical by now, and just wants Dean. Is that so much to ask? Dean might be coming around. That is, until there's a little misunderstanding. Now Sam has to explain.

 

Sam smiled at his crew, who were getting cheered and slapped on the back during the impromptu party that started the minute the showers were ready for operation. _You’d think you’d get used to the smell of sour pits and B.O.- but you never do_. Sam wrinkled his nose at his own stink often enough. Not that being rank was unusual anymore, but damn, a little civilization never hurt, right?

He’d brought up the idea of the communal showers in a weekly Ops meeting, complete with sketches and a report on the estimated man-hours and supplies. Because that's how Sam Winchester rolled - all organized and shit. No wonder Dean called him geek-boy.

The General was on board, so everyone else more or less rubber stamped it. Sam was nervous bringing  it up, since he maintained a low profile in those weekly meetings, but once he got to talking about it- how he could build solar collectors to heat hot water even in winter- everyone got excited. There was something about a hot shower that made everyone giddy.

It had taken a month; building the structure, the concrete pad, the collectors. In the end it wasn’t much to look at, but as his baby, the guys on the crew rewarded him with first shower.

Sam was a little embarrassed, standing there at the entrance to the showers with his soap and towel in his hand as the crew gathered around, whooping and laughing it up, catcalling and shouting out off-color remarks.  He smiled shyly and lifted his hand before going in.

He quickly stripped and grabbed his soap- something strong smelling; he wanted to _smell_ like he’d just showered when he finished.

Sam stepped into the open shower platform. There was one large drain in the middle of the floor and several showerheads along the walls. _Maybe we should have gone with shower stalls_ - _there’d be plenty of group showering and fucking in here_ \- but hey, his job was building it, not policing it.

 _If you build it, they will come._ He laughed out loud.

The water was warm and felt delicious. He sighed in ecstasy as the water sluiced over his head and down his body. He rubbed the soap over his hair, then down his chest and arms. He managed to finish in under the allotted time and even toweling off in the cold room couldn’t dampen his mood.

When Sam stepped out of the building, someone noticed him and a resounding cheer went up.  He laughed - shook his long, wet hair dramatically and held his arms wide.

“I declare the showers officially open!”

Several men pushed past him, eager to get their five minutes of pure pleasure.

Someone pressed a beer into his hand and he noticed that the little group had grown to about 30 people. Someone even had a guitar. _Christ, this is how low we’ve sunk– celebrating a fucking shower._ He smiled grimly and tilted back the bottle.

Elbowing his way into Sam’s space, Dean enveloped him in an enormous bear hug, mumbling “Proud of you, Sammy” and “damn, you smell good” into his ear. He inhaled Dean- spicy and leather, the indefinable essence of Dean that needed no cleaning up. It was perfect as is.

“Thanks, Dean.”

“I can see it now, couples breaking up because one won’t wash his ass crack-“

“Dude. Gross.” But he did chuckle out loud. “Grab a beer.” He nodded towards the six-packs stuck into the snow.

“No can do, Sam- I’m still on duty.” He winked at Sam. “Can’t let the boys get the idea I’d let ‘em slack off, right? Gotta set an example.” He did look longingly at the cans of Bud.

Sam looked at Dean through his lashes as he drank. _He looks damn good, fucking uniform and all._

“There’s something ironic as hell hearing you say that.”

“What? I wasn’t a total delinquent.” Dean seemed slightly affronted, but the smirk betrayed him.

“Mm- yeah. Okay. If you say so.” It felt good to banter lightly like this. Happened so infrequently these days. “Hey-“

Dean turned and raised a brow.

“It’s been awhile. Thought maybe you might want to catch some dinner tonight.” Sam tried to keep his voice casual, though he felt anything but. “Catch up on things, I don’t know-“

A beat went by, Dean looking at him closely. “Yeah, man. Sure…that’s cool.”

“Say about seven? We can see what’s on the menu at the Crossroads. Maybe shoot a couple of games.”

Dean was smiling at him. Not the shit eating grin he doled out to everyone else, but the soft one he saved for Sam alone.

“Yeah…okay.”

Now Sam did grin, and knocked him with his shoulder.

“Get the hell out of here and get back to work.” He warmed all over the way Dean ducked his head, almost shyly and walked off.

\---

The clinic was lit up like a stadium (or like what he remembered a stadium looking like) and the three doctors were huddled up over a laptop. No one looked up as he walked in, so Sam just took his usual seat and kicked up his heels on a desk.

“Seriously, Winchester?” Which made him hold up his hands in ‘what’ gesture. He bugged out his eyes at her as she frowned at him and went back to what they were doing.

He didn’t understand the half of it, what with all the medical jargon, but from the gist of it, something big was going down, and it involved some kind of results from their latest viral testing.

They were all smiles and shit - Carla almost giggled, and Sam scowled when the one doc, Burger- put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed it affectionately. She didn’t seem to mind it too much so he tried to tamp down his burgeoning brotherly mode and let her be. Still, you had to watch out, dudes would do or say anything in this place to get laid. Especially with a woman.

The docs broke up their little jam session and Burger and Brower waved at him, goofy grins all the way out of the lab. Carla was just as giddy.

“What’s going on? Looks like you guys have some good news?”

Carla spun around in her chair, smiling widely.

“We’ve got something, Sam. I think we might really have something- finally! Deb Goodall is due to deliver in the next couple of weeks and we think we might have a vaccine that is worth testing. She’s up for it, so now we’re all in the waiting stage.” Her face was flushed with excitement. Her lips parted.

“That’s great- Jesus. That’s- “ he just smiled at her, and they both got a little emotional for a minute, thinking that they might beat it, this cancer eating at the last of humanity. Sam scooped her up in a crushing embrace and they laughed a little hysterically. When she leaned up to kiss him, he didn’t pull away. Not at first.

 _Shit, she’s kissing me_ , he thought, responding to the kiss with increasing urgency that had his hands in her hair and tilting her mouth up to his. She moaned into his kiss, so unlike the asexual person he’d come to know. Part of him loved it - loved this, _that someone was touching him_ \- _holding_ him. The need to feel another person was so strong and he'd spent a long time being alone and lonely.

 _What the hell am I doing_ , he wondered. He felt his desire fade, even as the kiss continued. By the time he started pulling away, he knew she was feeling the same awkward embarrassment.  They both turned at the same time to the sound of the clinic doors swinging open.

 “Sammy? I heard you’re in here!  I… uh- just wanted to make sure we were still on for dinner… “ Dean trailed off, his face a mask- betraying nothing. ”Sorry to interrupt.” He turned briskly on his heel and bolted out the door.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Goddamn it. No, no, no this is not happening_ , Sam thought in panic. He still had his hands around Carla. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“Go ahead” she said looking guilty, and he took off after Dean.

He caught up to him easily on the sidewalk outside the clinic offices. Dean side eyed him and kept walking, then seemed to reach a decision and pulled up short, nearly causing Sam to collide with him. He wore a grin that Sam recognized. It was the one they used to use on witnesses and law enforcement – the artificial one designed to knock suspicion loose and make them seem non-threatening.

Just seeing Dean using that fucking smile on him made his blood boil.

“Yo, Sammy, sorry for interrupting your afternoon delight- I tried to get outta there and let you get back to business-“ He stood there, grinning right into Sam’s face, daring him to say something. “She looked like she was into it…”

Sam took Dean’s upper arms in his and shook him a little. “We weren’t doing anything, Dean. She told me about a new vaccine trial – we were just – I don’t know. It’s a big moment.“

“No need to explain, little brother. I’m happy for you. She seems great.” His grin looked pasted on and he cocked his head in that little way of his and Sam wanted to knock his lights out.

“Christ, you piss me off.” He dropped his hands because he was going to haul him in for a kiss if he didn’t and fuck, he wasn’t ready to go there and he damn sure knew Dean wasn’t either. “We still on for tonight?” He knew he sounded bitchy.

“Absolutely. I’m just going to HQ to wrap up some things and then I’m gonna get cleaned up. Try to get a shower, if I can squeeze in there. By the way, you know, I hear dudes are fucking in there like 24/7.” At the word ‘fucking’ Sam’s dick jumped a little.

“Is that right? Anyway, I’ll see you at 7.  You want me to stop by your room and pick you up?” He thought he sounded girly as hell.

“Aw, Sammy. That’s so thoughtful of you.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“Okay. Nah, I’ll meet you there. Catch me at the bar. I might head over early.”

Sam nodded and Dean took off, leaving him to make his way back to his room. As he walked back, he remembered the look on Dean’s face as he stood inside the clinic door- shock and more than a little hurt. _Yeah, motherfucker, you deserve it.  See how it feels to have your fucking heart dragged through the mud. See how you like it._

But damn. He wondered if he had something clean to wear and all he could think about was how much he was looking forward to seeing Dean later.

\---

It was dark when he made his way to The Crossroads. The sound of music carried over the still air well before he even made it to the doors. _Damn, the place turned into a genuine roadhouse, drunks and all_. It was really too small to accommodate the number of people who showed up every night, and there was a good sized crowd outside, smoking and drinking and sitting on a motley collection of picnic tables and chairs. He could smell stale beer, cigarette and pot smoke and every once in a while, a cigar. In a way, it was comforting. He'd spent a lot of time over the years in places just like this- hustling pool and killing time. A pang of nostalgia went through him before he even realized what it was.

Sam pushed his way inside and it was louder and smokier. They had the music turned up and the dance floor was filled. He made his way to the bar and found a spot against the wall to stand. Sam stepped up and ordered a bourbon and downed it in one shot, then ordered another.

Standing in the shadows, he looked for Dean while he relaxed and sipped his drink. Through a gap in the crowded dance floor, he saw the other side of the dark room and there was Dean, talking to Cas as they stood near the back door. He could feel himself stiffening, and rolled his shoulders to ease the tension. Part of him wanted to walk over, but for some reason he just stood there and observed.

Studying Dean’s body language was something he hadn’t needed to do in a long time. By the time he was a teenager, he’d learned every nuance and tell Dean had. It was part and parcel of living every moment in his orbit. He’d worshiped Dean as the hero he always aspired to be, and no matter how many years passed, fights, misunderstandings, partings, reconciliations – he still felt a little breathless when he looked at Dean- the yardstick by which all men were measured and came up short. Lately, though, he never got past feeling like he was off balance- unsure of what Dean was going to do or how he felt. Mostly, Sam just felt lonely and left out, confused by the change in Dean – or maybe, hell- maybe it was him that changed, too. Being in love with Dean still meant he wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing or not. Hell- he questioned it every day. He didn’t know, just was sure that it had something to do with them not being _right_ \- not being i _n sync_ like they should be. It confused and scared him, and pissed him the hell off. It had to end – _he was going to go crazy if it didn’t_ -he was going to make sure of that.

Sam put his name in at the bar for the next available table and ordered another bourbon. He was careful not to get shitfaced by the time he managed to talk – _really talk-_ to Dean, even though these days, alcohol was the additive that helped him make it through the day.

Dean was standing there, looking like six feet of pure, fucking perfection in jeans and a t-shirt, covered by a black motorcycle jacket. Lately, his hair was always military short, not getting in the way of his handsome features, and Sam’s dick definitely thickened thinking of Dean in all that leather,  Made Sam want to lean in and get his mouth on him.

While he got a little hard, he also got a little pissed, because Dean was flirting sure as fuck- making eye contact with his head coyly turned to the side, smiling warmly at something Cas was saying, leaning into Cas’ personal fucking space, and mostly infuriatingly, letting Cas put his hand on his chest for a moment and _Jesus Christ_ – _letting_ it slide down the front of his torso, the mother fucker. That’s when he turned his head and pointedly made eye contact with Sam. His eyes widened briefly, then sunk to half mast as his lips curled into a hint of a wicked smile.

Sam didn’t look away. He sipped his drink. Took his sweet time- just casual- you know- while his eyes darkened and he knew he was smoldering. _Go ahead, bitch, push it._ He lifted a corner of his mouth, and drained the glass as he walked over to stake his claim.


	26. Chapter 26 - Mine Baby Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam confronts Dean and reminds him of who he really belongs with. Finally, Dean let's himself go and the boys get hot and sexy together.

Chapter 26-

 

Keeping his eyes on Dean as he crossed the crowded room, Sam elbowed people aside, ignoring the glares and angry comments thrown his way. Dean always liked playing games but he didn’t know what he was in for. Sam was done playing. It was on.

Cas turned to him as he approached, surprised and looking a little alarmed. _Don’t even_ , he thought- _get your fucking hands off my brother_ was what he wanted to say. After that he might plant his fist in the former angel’s face.

“Sammy, I see you made it.” Looking so fucking smug- pushing all of Sam’s buttons with that one phrase.

“Yeah. Looks like I got here just in time.” He glared at Cas, who had the grace to glance away, suddenly interested in something on the other side of the room.  Sam turned to Dean, who still had Cas’ hand on his shoulder. “You still want to do dinner? Or have I caught you at a bad time?”

Dean lightly shrugged off Cas’ hand and leaned back against the wall, shooting Cas an apologetic look that really looked more like a sorry-dude-but-what-can-you-do  expression, complete with a little eyebrow quirk. Then he seemed to regroup and tilted his head, smiling that phony peacemaker smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, we just seem to be catching each other in compromising positions, today, don’t we?” Then he grinned at Sam, and oh, yeah, it was clear what he meant, and while a part of Sam was still pissed off seeing Dean letting himself get pawed by Cas, he was even more thrilled that he could see the jealousy in Dean’s eyes. Where there was jealousy, there was feeling, and he could work with that. He could definitely work with that.

“You’re an asshat- you know that? I told you there was nothing going on with Carla.”

“Yeah, right. And I told you I was happy for you, Sam- and I am- because being with her is about the most normal you’re gonna get these days- and fuck all, you deserve that.” He turned to Cas. “You agree with me, right, Cas?”

Cas looked uncomfortably like he’d rather be anywhere but there at that moment. Sam could see him revert back to the awkwardness he’d known him for when he was still an angel – and still his friend.

“Sam, I-“

“Save it, Cas. This is between me and Dean.” The urge to kick his ass- _fuck_ \- to kick both their asses- hadn’t gone away. Sam looked at Dean, willing him to drop the macho act. “This what you want, Dean? Is he what you want? Tell me the fucking truth now because if there’s anything I could count on from you it’s the goddamned truth.”

Dean did drop the act then, and Sam saw the vulnerability he did his best to hide from everyone, including himself. It didn’t last but a second before he settled back into the Dean he’d been dealing with all his life- that one who pretended he had an answer for everything and dared to be challenged.

“Cas and I are good friends. _Real_ good friends.” He slumped a little and glanced away, his tell worse than the shittiest poker player on the planet. Even Cas noticed, and seemed to deflate a little. Sam almost felt sorry for him. He’d obviously thought there was something more going on between them.

Sam considered his options.

“Cas, would you excuse us for a minute- I need to talk to my brother.” Without a backward glance, he grabbed the front of Dean’s shirt and pulled him along behind as he pushed through the back door, past the small group sharing a smoke and to the back of the building where there was some privacy and relative quiet. All the while, Dean was protesting and muttering - _what the fuck, Sam_ \- but he followed along compliantly. Sam shoved him up against the building none too gently. Deans green eyes were wide as he let himself be manhandled.

Sam could see the pulse beating in Dean’s neck- smelled him- all Dean, layered with woodsy cologne and slightly sharp with bath soap as he held himself still while Sammy leaned forward, scenting him. Sam  closed his eyes, instantly taken back to days in hotel rooms, nights in roadside dives where all the while, he watched in silence, wanting just once to get Dean like this, exposed and off balance where he might have a chance to get under his defenses.

His voice was a husky murmur when he spoke. “Truth now, Dean. You want him? I always thought you two had something going on- that whole fucking profound bond thing. Just tell me if you do so I don’t make a fool of myself here.” He leaned closer, his body invading Dean’s personal space until there was nothing but a whisper of air between them.

Dean started to speak and lost. He looked up at Sam, anguish written in his face. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and exhaled. His body language signaled defeat.

“No. I don’t want him.”

Sam stared at Dean – the moonlight playing off the planes of his almost too beautiful face. Something deep inside warmed and curled up in happiness.

He raised a hand and stroked his thumb softly across the fullness of Dean’s lower lip. “I’m glad.”

Dean lowered his head shyly, and Sam knew if there was enough light, he’d see that telltale blush rise in his face, making his freckles stand out in relief. Ducking his head alongside Deans, he breathed the words – _missed you so much, Dean_ \- and brushed his lips against his ear, feeling the shiver that ran along Dean’s body. He kept his voice low and steady, as if he were trying not to spook a wild animal.

“It’s okay be confused. This is new to me, too, Dean. I just- I need you in my life - need you beside me.” He kept nuzzling against Dean’s ear and behind it as he spoke. “Don’t you understand - it’s not good for either of us when we’re apart.”

His cheek rubbed against the scruff of Dean’s five o’clock shadow and the bristle against his skin sent a frisson of hot desire through him.   He lowered his mouth to the soft skin under the earlobe and nipped softly with his lips, making Dean inhale sharply. 

“I missed you so much, Dean. So fucking much.”

Sam’s tongue darted out and licked the skin of Dean’s neck with the barest of touches, but enough to make Dean lean his head back with a barely audible sound. Sam could feel him soften beneath him, his body becoming languid and he tilted his head, offering his neck to Sam for more. Sam opened his mouth, gently sucking the tender skin, licking gently until Dean was softly panting and arching towards him with the barest of movements.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay” he murmured, his arms sliding gently down and around until he had him in a loose embrace, his hands skimming soothingly across the expanse of his back.

 Dean huffed out his breath and moaned involuntarily. ”Sammy-“

He lifted his arms and drew Sam closer, turning his head until their lips met. The kiss was tentative at first, his lips opening under Sam’s and when their tongues touched, he groaned hard and kissed him back with the pent up desire that had been held in check for too long. Teeth clashing, the kiss was wet and sloppy and just perfect, Sam thought. Dean’s hands wove through his hair almost painfully, pulling him close and making small sounds that were driving him crazy.

“Christ, Sammy-“ Dean breathed between kisses. His hands moved down and along the long expanse of Sam’s neck, his chest and under his open jacket to pull him in closer. “Jesus, what you do to me…” He kissed him again, arching hard against Sam’s body, his hands pulling their hips together.

Pushing against Dean, he rocked his hips into Dean’s, letting him feel the evidence of his desire, and feeling Dean’s own hardness. It thrilled him even as it scared him a little, but not enough to stop the rocking movement that had them both gasping for breath.

Sam dropped his hand to Dean’s hard cock and pressed. “Love you like this. Make me so fucking hard for you.” He rubbed along its length while Dean moaned _ohfuck_ and _jesussammy_ and pressed back, seeking friction.

“Wanna touch you,” Dean whispered, gripping Sam through his jeans and stroking- making him see stars. They stood there, rubbing each other, kissing and murmuring whispered encouragements – _ohyeah, likethat, godsogood_ , until they were utterly beyond reason.

Sam drew back his head and looked at Dean, taking in his impossibly green eyes, wide and liquid with desire, and the red lips, beestung and full, and felt for a moment that he was gonna come in his jeans like a kid if he didn’t get himself in check. “Open your pants” he growled and Dean closed his eyes and bit his lip. His hands went to his belt, undoing it, and he let his hand be pushed away by Sam.

“No. Wanna do this for you.” Sam grasped Dean’s rigid cock, squeezing and caressing- exploring the firm length of him, velvety and hard as iron, and stroking gently up and down. He thumbed across the head, wet with precum, and Dean gasped sharply and made a high keening sound. “God, Sam. Won’t be long.”

Smiling to himself and hard as a fucking rock, Sam jacked Dean slowly and surely, pausing to run his finger across the frenulum which made Dean groan, and down to slide across his balls, tugging gently on them before returning to stroke him some more.  He slicked the precum along Dean’s cock and jacked him faster and harder until Dean was nearly there – _ohgod, fuck sam gonna come_ \- and he turned at the last minute to watch the hot white jets spurting from the deep red head, spattering on the remnants of the last snowfall.

Sam was entranced. Keeping his eyes on Dean’s cock, Sam stroked him through his climax until Dean was oversensitive and pulling back - wanting to keep going because it felt just _so fucking good_ to touch Dean this way. He wanted to drop to his knees and suck down Dean’s cock, letting it soften on his tongue while he licked away the salty tang of his come and lick into the slit of the head. He was so incredibly turned on.

Dean was breathing hard and coming down from his orgasm, but managed to keep his hand sliding over Sam’s cock. “Your turn”

Grabbing Sam around the chest, he pulled him around until their places were reversed, and he fumbled at Sam’s belt buckle, their mouths together.

“You don’t need to-“ Sam huffed against Dean’s lips as he felt cold air hit the burning skin of his cock. Dean was like a man possessed, kissing his mouth, his cheek - biting softly at the pulse point in his neck and making Sam’s knees weak. “Wanna do this, Sammy. Wanna make you come so bad.”

 _Jesus, yes,_ thought Sam, as Dean rubbed his fingers over the wet head of his cock and moaning as if it were him being fondled. He wrapped his hand around Sam and stroked him, fucking his tongue in and out of Sam’s mouth along with dirty moans. “Love seeing you fall apart.”

Dean pulled his mouth away from Sam and rubbed his fingers in the precum dripping from Sam’s cock. Sam reached down and grabbed his hand, bringing Dean’s fingers to his lips, licking them and sucking two of them into his mouth. He looked Dean in the eyes and moaned, “Love you touching me, Dean.”

He pushed Dean’s hand lower until Dean was again jacking him, and pulled him in for a kiss, whispering – _can you taste me?-_ and closing his eyes as Dean stroked him with his own spit. He wanted to last longer- to make this last fucking forever, but the pinpricks in his balls and dick were soon a flood of sensation and he spilled his hot come over Dean’s stroking fist. _Finally,_ he thought, overwhelmed with emotion, _love you so fucking much_.

They stood there for a moment, catching their breath, foreheads resting against one another. They adjusted their clothes and for a moment, Sam wondered if things were going to get weird between them, but when he looked at Dean, all he saw was a little shyness in his soft smile.

“I bet that table’s ready for us. But I need to wash this spunk off my hand before I eat anything.”

“Jesus, Dean. Never change.”

Dean’s eyes twinkled. “Why change perfection?” _Damn straight_ , agreed Sam.

***                           

They went back into the Crossroads, and Cas was nowhere to be found, Sam noticed. _Hopefully the dick’s moved on._ If he needed to, he’d jam Dean’s sticky, come covered hand under his nose just to make sure he knew who he belonged to.  _He’s mine, motherfucker, always was and always will be._

While Dean left to clean up, Sam claimed their table and ordered them dinner and a couple of beers. He was feeling so relaxed that he didn’t even hear Dean come up behind him and squeeze him on the shoulder. He jumped, and wondered not for the first time how he’d managed to lose so many of his hunter’s instincts.

“Damn, Sammy- never used to be able to sneak up on you so easy.” Dean took his seat and took a pull on his beer.

“Yeah, just thinking about that. This fucking place has made me go soft.”

Dean pulled out a hand rolled cigarette and lit it with a smirk. Sam cocked his head and rolled his eyes at the unstated double entendre.

“Ya know, you ever want to come and do some PT with me and the boys- you’re welcome to, anytime.” He took a drag on the smoke. “Keep you in shape. You doing any weapons training?”

“Nope. Rusty as hell there too, I’m sure. I don’t know. The shit I’m doing here- it’s important- I get it- but it’s just not me anymore. I hated hunting for so many years and now that it’s gone- I kind of feel like a piece of me’s missing. It’s a part of my identity, you know? And I miss hunting things that need killing. I wonder what that says about me. I guess I’m still a freak after all.” Je _sus, that sounded touchy feely as fuck_.

“Nah. I get it. Why the hell d’you think I joined the militia? Needed to feel useful again- even if it is just rounding up drunks and being a fucking glorified policeman. “ He laughed harshly, “Ain’t that a kick in the ass, me being the Po Po?”

They laughed about it, because yeah, Dean was the consummate anti-authoritarian from the jump and it was ironic as hell that he was now the guy they’d loved to hate.

“You still look hot in the uniform.”

Dean pulled his mouth into a frown and considered it. “Well, there is that.”

“I’m serious as hell, Dean. There’s something about you in that military getup…”

Dean grinned back at him, and it wasn’t the fakey grin, but the special ‘just for sammy’ look that he’d missed so long.

“You kinky little motherfucker.”

“Dean. Really? Do I really need to remind you of a certain incident with pink panties?”

Dean dropped his eyes to his food and blushed. Well, not that Sam could see much in that position, but the tips of his ears did turn a pretty shade of pink.

“Uh… Yeah. Well, she dared me. I mean… what’s a guy supposed to do? And she was hot.”

“I recall. That wasn’t the only thing hot that night.” Sam lifted his beer and smiled a bit evilly, enjoying Dean’s discomfort. “I still get off thinking about it.” They both knew he wasn’t talking just about the girl.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean looked up at him, and _oh fuck_ \- _his lips_.

“Damn right. Although, when I think about it, things go a little differently…”

They stared at each other for a moment, and the air crackled with intensity between them. Dean finally tore his eyes away and cleared his throat, embarrassed.

Sam gave him a break and changed the subject. “How’s your hand doing? It seems to be a lot better.” _Good enough to give him an awesome hand job._ Fuck, how come everything he said came out with a double meaning? “I mean, it looks like you’re really able to use it.” _Fuck, Sam_.

“I gotta exercise the shit out of it or it gets stiff as hell. So- you know- a lot of gripping. Squeezing a ball, that kind of thing. Need to use it a lot.” He had a slight grin on his face. _Not so shy after all,_ Sam thought.

“Listen, Dean. I’m sorry if I pissed off Cas earlier-“

“Don’t sweat it, Sam. He’s a big boy- he can take care of himself.” He said around a piece of bread he was munching on. “You do realize- we’re only friends. That’s it- no matter how much he wishes it were more.” Then he sat still, his eyes going serious - his hands laying quiet on the table. Dean’s gaze bore into Sam, willing him to understand that it meant so much more than those simple words. And Sam wanted to believe he understood. He needed to believe it.

“That’s good to hear.” Sam affirmed. “I wasn’t kidding though. We need each other, and no matter how crazy that sounds, we’re at our best when we’re together.”

Dean just nodded, accepting what Sam was saying.  When had they ever really thought otherwise?

Sam finished his dinner and left his fork on the plate. He stretched, lazily and as catlike as his feline eyes suggested. He was full and had a little buzz on from the alcohol and Christ, Dean was here – his missing piece.       

“Hey, you wanna stay here and shoot a few games or maybe come over to my room and have a couple of drinks?

Dean blushed again – _so bashful lately, his brother_ -“I’d rather just go to your room.  Maybe you got a movie we can watch or something.” His side eye glances seemed to indicate he was thinking of something a little different. Sam could definitely get on board with that.  

Paying their tab, they headed out into the night, Sam’s arm looped around Dean’s neck, keeping him close all the way – vowing never to let him get away again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience! I promise you won't have to wait so long for the next chapter!  
> Still to come: Will the cure work, why Sam and Dean survived, and what the hell is going on with Cas?
> 
> Feel free to rec this fic to your friends. I love my readers xoxo


	27. Chapter 27- You've Gotta Have Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With so precious few women survivors of he end of it all, every one is precious. One girl's pregnancy is a chance to cheer for humanity- until something goes wrong.

Chapter 27

 

It was late. He was laying on the bed, watching Dean sleeping beside him, illuminated by the single candle by the bedside. The way the flickering candlelight played over his sleeping form, Dean’s pale skin took on a golden glow and his hair shined like polished bronze. Sam never got tired of looking at him in moments like this. So relaxed and youthful looking, it almost hurt to think Dean was nearly forty. By the grace of God he looked younger than his years- way too young for someone who’d defied Heaven, Hell and all the forces in between. Maybe this was, in a tiny way, a little bit of compensation- to stay so youthful and beautiful- in exchange for all the horrors.

Fuck, but he was feeling sentimental. He wouldn’t admit it to Dean, that’s for damn sure. No. They weren’t brought up that way. Not unless he was drunk and in one of those ‘I love you, man’ moments, but hey- it was nice, sometimes- at least to think it in his own mind.

Besides, Dean would knock the shit out of him if he found him staring like this. He was barely dealing with the fact they were together. _As in together-together_. And maddeningly, it was only between them that he’d admitted it. Still was in the closet, more or less, to the rest of the camp. Okay, not in the closet, because everyone figured out he was okay with man on man action- Jesus, he practically let Cas grope him up one side and down the other plenty of times at Crossroads and various other places in camp- but as far as he and Sam— _no fucking way._

That bothered him a little more than he wanted it to. Maybe it was the brother thing. Okay. It _was_ the brother thing. Not that they’d even be the first. Two bros came into camp a few weeks ago and made it plain what was going on between them. So not everyone was cool with it- that was to be expected- but they were left alone and after a while, it was no longer commented on. Sam tried to point that out to Dean, but all that got him was a stony stare until he dropped his eyes and relented that it was not no big deal to keep it between themselves. And after all, it really wasn’t. All he wanted was Dean. The rest of them all could go and take a flying fuck for all he cared.

So, here it was almost a week later and Dean allowed himself to admit he was _with_ Sam. Though Sam never called them partners or SOs or god forbid, _boyfriends_ – that would earn him a kick in the ass, for sure.  The real kicker was, they hadn’t even fucked. Oh- the kissing was great. The kissing was fucking _awesome_. They’d lay on the bed for what seemed like hours, kissing and groping and rubbing and getting so goddamned worked up he’d once, embarrassingly, come in his pants.

They’d perfected the art of hand jobs and he knew just by Dean’s breath pattern whether to slow down or speed up, and fuck, he could make him come in less than sixty seconds if he really wanted to. Dean was no slouch in that department, either, learning what Sam liked and especially how sensitive his balls were and how he curled his toes when he was about to shoot his load.

Sometimes he felt like a teenager, because he couldn’t wait to get Dean’s dick in his hands at any waking moment. Their first night together, they’d finally gotten comfortable enough to give each other blowjobs, and Sam was so excited he lasted a disappointingly short time before he came in Dean’s wet mouth, his orgasm going extra hot as he watched Dean struggle to swallow. It made him hard all over again picturing how debauched he looked, his come leaking from Dean’s lush lips.

They’d spent the last few days in a heightened state of arousal, Sam making it a point to bump into each other throughout the day and Dean adding extra flavor to his military bearing as he stood just a shade too close during their casual conversations. Sometimes Sam noticed Dean reaching out to pick a non-existent stray of lint off his jacket almost as if he needed an excuse to touch him – and that always sent a warm thrill through Sam. At the end of the day, with their duties done, they came crashing together in a crush of arms and legs and mouths and hands- making up for years of self-imposed denial. Neither of them really spoke of it when it happened. It was just sort of – inevitable.

But fucking? No, Dean made it clear he was in no way ready for that. Like that final step would mean it was real – that they’d crossed the invisible barrier and there would be no turning back. Their hands roamed over each other’s asses, finger’s playing and gently prodding, but if Sam lingered a little too long, Dean backed away, whispering _not yet_.

He thought about suggesting Dean fuck him, but he’d shown no interest in that at all. It was confusing and fucking frustrating. It wasn’t like he was a virgin or anything, but this was _Dean_ , and he wanted to tread carefully. Didn’t want to fuck this up.

So he waited. Would wait however long it took. He was used to waiting.

He was about to blow out the candle and go to sleep when there was a pounding on his door, making him jump and causing Dean to instinctively leap from the bed and reach for his Colt.  

“Sam! It’s coming! Sam, you in there?!” Carla shouted through the closed door. He wrapped a sheet around his hips and moved to open the door, giving Dean a second to grab his pants.

She pushed through as soon as he unlocked the door, all breathless and eyes shining with excitement. “This is it, Sam, Deb’s in labor-“ She paused a moment, taking in the scene; Dean looking all disheveled, his hair poking out in all directions, and Sam clutching the sheet with one hand, looking like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. With a slight smile, she went on, “We’re gonna try the vaccine. I knew you’d want to be there.”

It took a fraction of a second for him to answer, but damn, it felt like an eternity. “Yeah, of course. We’ll be there. Just- uh, need a few minutes-“He looked at Dean, who was beet red with mortification. “Go on to the clinic and we’ll catch up in a sec.” He gave an embarrassed little shrug.

“Okay-“She was beaming and a grin was growing ever larger on her face. “God, keep your fingers crossed this works. I’ll see you guys there.” As fast as she’d blown in she was gone, and Sam stood for a minute, letting the importance of what she’d said wash over him. “Jesus, Dean- “

“Well, that’s fucking great.”  He was pulling on his shirt, still blushing across his face and neck. “How goddamn embarrassing.” Leave it to Dean to worry about the small shit.

“Relax, she’s cool. Besides, you couldn’t find a person here who’s cooler with this than she is. If she didn’t convince me not to give up, we’d still be ignoring each other and you’d be Cas’s boyfriend.”

“Dude, don’t even. I don’t give a shit if she’s fucking Oprah, you’d better hope she’s discreet.” He was already dressed and tying his boots. Meanwhile, Sam was still swiveling around, looking for where he’d dropped his pants. “What’s taking so long? Get your ass in gear, Sammy.” He said, earning a first degree bitchface for his trouble.

…

They made it to the clinic in record time, then realized the pointlessness of rushing, because while Deb Goodal was in labor, birth wasn’t imminent, so they settled in an office adjacent to the infirmary, listening to the periodic cries of pain coming from down the hall. Sam tried to keep himself relaxed, but Dean began pacing as soon as they arrived and continued to do so for the next hour.

“Shit, can’t they give her anything for that?” His face was screwed up in annoyance, but Sam figured it was layered over his anxiety. In fact, he was surprised Dean was as tense about this as he was. He’d never really shown much interest in the whole vaccine development, and Sam had just about convinced himself that Dean didn’t give a shit whether it worked or not. Or maybe it was the fact that a woman was pushing out a baby and from their vantage point, it looked like it hurt like hell.

“They don’t want to give her anything that might transfer to the baby’s blood and interfere with the vaccine. Sounds pretty brutal, though, doesn’t it?

A loud wail rent the air and Dean grimaced as he were in pain. “No shit - sounds like she’s getting stabbed or something.” He looked over at Sam. “How the hell do you sit there so calm like that?”

“I’m not calm. I just don’t pace like a caged tiger.” He looked at the clock. “Carla says it might be another hour.” He rolled his neck, stretching the tendons.

“Don’t know why we have to sit through this damn part, anyway,” Dean complained as he put his hands on the back of Sam’s neck and began rubbing at the tension.  They were silent as Dean worked on the knots in his shoulders and neck and Sam managed to enjoy the hell out of it, despite the continued cries and wails of the laboring woman.

Dean leaned over and kissed him on the neck, making him shiver at the ticklish sensation. “Okay. My turn, Sammy.” He said and they switched positions, letting Sam dig his strong hands into the tight muscles of Dean’s neck, working almost painfully deep, and finally easing some of the stress that kept Dean as taut as a bowstring for the last hour.

“Dean, what if this works? If they manage to stop the infection, d’you know what this means? I mean, Jesus, - it’s got to work. “ _If this didn’t work, he didn’t know if he could stay optimistic. Every time a baby died it was like getting fucked over by heaven all over again. How much more of that was God gonna hand out_? “How much more can we take, damn it-“ He slowed his massage and the movement in his hands turned into a gentle caress.

“We’ll just go on to the next thing, Sammy. We always, do. You know that.”

“Yeah. I know. I just hoped, maybe if this worked-”   _We can go home_ , he thought wearily. He spent too much time hoping. The reserves of optimism had just about run dry, and beyond that was a dark place he didn’t want to think about.

“I don’t wanna think about what a failure is gonna do to the people of this camp.” Dean muttered. “This place is held together with spit and baling wire as it is. I think things have the potential to get nasty if people think there’s no reason to hope. You best prepare yourself, if that happens.”

Yeah, no shit. Their little community of hard drinking survivors was just one failure away from complete anarchy- and no militia would be able to do much if the population went rogue. Not unless Davis and his men went full-out dictatorial on their collective asses. God damn. This needed to work.

The door swung open and Cas walked in. He looked at Dean and then Sam, his face grim. “I just spoke with General Davis and brought him up to speed on the situation. He’s got the militia on alert should anything go wrong.”

“Well, damn. I see you’re hoping for the best, Cas.” Sam said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Just preparing for the worst, Sam.” The angel never was big on conversation, and he hadn’t gotten chattier since his conversion to human, apparently. Either that, or it was simply that he didn’t like Sam all that much. Either way, who gave a shit. He’d come out on top in the only way that mattered.

“Settle down, you two. Jesus. It’s always a dick measuring contest with you guys lately.” Cas and Sam exchanged a glance and despite their differences, they both acknowledged how clueless Dean was sometimes. “So Cas, what’s the general mood out there?”

At that moment, another cry of pain interrupted them. All three men winced in sympathy, and trying to hold any kind of conversation was difficult at best. Sam was timing the contractions by his watch and guessed they were about a minute apart.

“It’s calm for the moment, Dean.” Cas sighed and leaned against the wall. “Unfortunately, there’s been much anticipation and expectations are high that this vaccine trial will be a success. I’m not quite so optimistic.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, could you be any more of a downer? Can we at least give it a chance to work before you shit all over it?”

“Please refrain from taking the Lord’s name in vain, Sam. My intention is not to _shit all over it_ , as you put it, but to lower expectations to reasonable levels. I don’t need to tell you or Dean what it means to have yet another failed experiment.” The look he shot Sam was dark and threatening.  Sam got to his feet, and suddenly the air was thick with icy tension.

“Hold on, you two. This isn’t the time or place for this crap. Stow it and later you can play Fight Club and you can both be Tyler Durden. One thing at a time, alright?“ Dean stepped between the two of them, playing peacemaker. “Let’s see how it goes. Hope for the best, right?”

The cries of pain coming from the infirmary were almost nonstop now and they could hear the voices of Carla and the other doctors attending the woman. The three men sat in grim silence for the next fifteen minutes until they heard a wailing of a baby, and they all looked at each other with wide eyes and tentative smiles, their disagreements forgotten.

Cas spoke up first. “May God bless him and keep him.” He bowed his head in a prayer for the newest member of humanity.

The room went silent and more unnervingly, there was no sound coming from the room with the mother and baby. Sam knew they were administering the vaccine. If it worked, they’d know right away. If it didn’t, and the Croatoan virus was still active, the baby wouldn’t live more than a few minutes. He felt a giant lump in his throat. _Please God, let this work._ Dean sat like stiffly, his eyes focused on the carpet. The three of them held their breath, barely daring to hope.

Then the crying began, and a woman screaming. _Oh God, pleaseno_. Dean jumped up and kicked over a side table, sending it flying into the wall. He picked up a heavy book and threw it at the window, shattering it. Cas bowed his head, silent and grim. Sam just sat there, feeling his eyes burn and fill and _ohfuckingchrist_ , he wanted to break down and cry. He thought he might be sick.

No one said anything. What was left to say? The experiment failed. Another child dead. Another nail in the coffin of humanity. _Why do we keep trying_ , Sam thought. _What’s the point anymore – we try and try and no matter how fucking hard we try it all turns to shit_.

The door opened and Carla walked in. She was ashen and looked defeated. It seemed she’d aged years in the hours since he’d last seen her. In a monotone voice she recited, “The vaccine was a failure. The virus was unharmed and killed the baby.” As she looked at Sam, her brittle façade fell away and she started crying. “He was in pain, Sam- a lot of pain. Our vaccine did nothing to help him. Nothing. All we could do was stand by and watch it happen…”  She left them, crying. Sam might have been able to comfort her if he could get his limbs moving again.

He absently noticed raised voices coming from outside. A scuffle. Some shouting. How long before the whole place knew what happened? Really, he wondered, what the fuck did it matter? He didn’t really give a shit. Dark thoughts enveloped him like a cloak, dulling him until he felt like an outsider looking at a scene in a play. Part of him welcomed it, the numbness- and all he wanted right then was a drink- a river of alcohol to wash it all away.

Dean broke the blanket of silence first.

“I need to get going. Davis is gonna need all hands on deck for this one.” Despite the words, he stayed rooted on the spot. “Why, Cas? Why is he doing this? Cause I just don’t understand it. Haven’t we suffered enough? That baby… What-“ he stopped and choked up.” What the hell did that little baby do to piss off God so much?”

“Dean…”

“So help me, if you say mysterious ways, I’ll kick your ass from here until Sunday.” He looked broken. Demoralized. White with shock. Sam wanted to hold him and say it was going to be okay but fuck, he didn’t and couldn’t. As far as being okay, Jesus no- they weren’t okay. This was as not okay as they’d been since their nightmare road trip- and just as hopeless feeling.

“Trust me on this, Dean. It will be alright. God does have a plan…”

“And you know this how? Because last time I looked, your hotline to heaven’s been disconnected and you’re just another poor sap stuck on this rock until He turns out the lights.” Dean practically vibrated with anger.

“Faith, Dean. You need to have faith.” Cas stood immobile. They looked at him until he dropped his eyes and turned away.

“Right.” Dean growled. “What I thought you’d say. Sam, I’ll see you when I can.” He grabbed his jacket and left the room, leaving Sam to sit wondering what to do next.

“Sam. I know it’s hard to believe. But God does have a plan. I promise you that.”

With a weary sigh, Sam stood and put on his coat. “Save it, Cas.”

He headed out into the night, still deciding whether to get drunk or see if he could help calm the rushing storm.


	28. Chapter 28- Love To Love You Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the failure of the vaccine, Sam and Dean come together to offer each other a little comfort, and finally consummate their relationship. Tender and hot lovemaking of the best kind. Explicit.

Chapter 28

***

“Come here.”

Dean pulled Sam down onto the bed, nestling him in like the little spoon and wrapping his arms around his chest. His chin rubbed absently across Sam’s shoulder, his breath a soft _whoosh_ against bare skin. The unexpected cuddle (no other way to describe it) took him by surprise.

“Just wanna stay like this a minute, Sammy. That okay?”

Sam nodded; whatever Dean wanted. When he was a kid, Dean would soothe away the hurts and wipe his tears. When he got older it went from kissing boo-boos to calling him a little bitch for crying over nothing. But for a while there, it was just pure love and comfort.  This felt like one of those rare times. He said nothing;  just tried to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

Dean’s hand stroked reassuringly up and down his arm. “I know it seems like we’re in a bad place- but it ain’t over, Sammy. I believe that. It’s not the end,” he murmured against Sam’s shoulder.

“I know.”

“Come on, Sam. We’re the fucking Winchesters. You and me been through shit worse than this a hundred times. Don’t pussy out on me now.” His voice was low and gravelly.

“Course not, Dean. You know I won’t. Just this… Man, it’s really, really fucked up.  I don’t know if we can come back from this, Dean. Anyway, it’s not just us, it’s everyone. Humanity. _Jesus_ -“

“Hold up. We don’t focus on the big picture, ‘kay? We just move onto the next thing, right? Remember what Dad always told us? You do what you can. Don’t worry about what you can’t change. We do what we can, now- and what’s next is- what?”  He nuzzled Sam’s shoulder, licking it a little- soothing him absently.

“Uh- well. Calm everyone down, I guess. Just make life as comfortable as we can.”

 _Pointless?_ He thought so, but Dean seemed to be trying really hard and he couldn’t let him down.

“Alright, good. So I was thinking about a little supply run into Colorado Springs- bring back a few distractions, you know- alcohol, candy, skin mags- what have you-“

“Dean-“

“I’m serious! Best way to get people over this is to give em a little something to focus on. Jesus, I wish we could afford to bring back some dogs. Never thought I’d say that, but Davis is a douche for not seeing the value in letting people have something besides themselves to care about.”

Damn, this _was_ a new Dean. “And I never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth.” He chuckled softly.

Dean laughed and kissed him on the spine. “Hey, was you taught me that.”

“Finding puppies wouldn’t be easy anyway. Kittens, that’s pretty doable.” He rolled over and looked at Dean, feeling a little excited about the idea despite himself. “Y’know, we could do it. Just bring ‘em back and fuck what Davis thinks.”

Dean grinned at him. “He’d kill me. I sorta don’t really give a shit, though.”

They lay there, grinning conspiratorially like two boys planning a practical joke.

“We do this, I’m not the only one going down for it, Sammy.”

Those beautiful eyes. Sam would follow him to the gates of Hell and back. This was a no brainer.

“Course not, Dean. I got your back.”

Dean pulled him closer and kissed him. His lips gentle, luxuriating in their softness. Sam groaned low and opened his mouth under Dean’s, letting him take the lead – a little bit demanding then a whole lot more demanding. He was panting and felt his dick harden as Dean teased his lips and tongue.

“Love you like this, Dean-“

“Yeah?” He tightened his fist in Sam’s hair. Just a bit too tight - enough to make him feel owned. It kicked his desire up a notch. “Gonna give it up to me?”

 Sam moaned and pressed against him, feeling the hardness of his cock against Dean’s. “Yeah- whatever you want-“ he ground out as Dean took his mouth in a punishing kiss and moved down to suck on his neck.

“So hot laid out under me, just wanting it.” Dean kneed his legs apart, rocking his hips into Sam’s, moving his mouth to his chest and capturing a hard nipple between his teeth. “Make me so fucking turned on.”

Sam slid his hands down to Dean’s cock, stroking it twice before Dean purred _nu-uh_ and pushed his hand away.

“You do that, I’m gonna come too soon. Wanna play with you a little.” He held one fist in Sam’s hair and used the other to pull Sam’s hand over his head- gently, but clearly in control. ”God, you look so fuckable, Sammy.” He breathed as his mouth roamed Sam’s chest and neck.

“Jesus, Dean-“

He was awash in sensation; his nipples on fire from Dean’s gentle biting, his cock hard and aching. He arched into each caress as Dean gave what he needed, his hand skimming along ribs and down and around his thigh to pull him close.

“I wanna fuck you, Sammy. Wanna fuck you so bad.” Dean punctuated it with a hard press of his cock against Sam’s- rocking their hips together.

“Do it, Dean, fuck me. Yeah- fuck me-” _Finally_ , he thought. His cock jumped at the thought of Dean’s cock stretching him- filling him.

Dean slid his hand to Sam’s dick and ghosted a touch over it, then stroked his balls softly, making Sam whimper as Dean explored under his balls and over the crease of his ass. His finger teased against the tight entrance.

“Lube, Sammy?” He chuckled, finger rhythmically nudging at the rim. Sam looked at him, taking in Dean’s wide, wicked smile and his eyes; blown wide and intense like he hadn’t seen in years. For a split second, he was transported back to the kitchen of his old house at Stanford, staring into another pair of wide, green eyes; that curious mix of innocence and worldly that had vanished years ago.

Sam’s arm reached out, blindly groping for the nightstand drawer and withdrawing a tube. Dean slicked his fingers before sliding one finger firmly into Sam’s tightness. He waited a moment, then began moving it firmly in and out, watching Sam, his eyes closed in pleasure.

 Dean worked his finger until Sam whispered _more_ and added a second, opening him up. There was a delicious burn as Sam felt the intrusion and he enjoyed the sensation of Dean pushing deep, brushing against his prostate again and again.

“Look at you… yeah. Wish you could see how fuckin hot you look right now…” he whispered, his voice full of something like wonderment. He withdrew his fingers and slid in again with three. “Don’t wanna hurt you, Sammy- you gotta tell me when you’re ready.”

“Jesus, you always talk so much when you fuck?” Sam groaned as he ground down on Dean’s fingers. “S’alright- just do it already…”

Dean laughed quietly and put his mouth on Sam’s, his kiss tender. Positioning himself between Sam’s open legs, he held himself up with one hand, and with the other guided his cock to Sam’s entrance, teasing it at the rim before sinking slowly into the tight heat.

Sam gasped at the burn, willing himself to relax and they lay for a few moments, letting his body accept the intrusion. It was pain and pleasure and Sam reveled in it, knowing it was Dean doing this. _Dean_. Who he wanted for so long and now it was happening- _finally_.

He felt so full. Full and stretched to capacity and exquisitely burning from the inside out. When Dean began pulling out, the sensation was blissful, and when he thrust back inside, blissful went to blinding pleasure. Sam felt the urge to move and rocked his hips in time with Dean’s thrusts, matching him in speed and intensity as they got deeper and harder. Dean fucked him relentlessly, wrenching soft cries and moans out of Sam as he cried out _ohgod don’t stop_.

Dean pulled himself up and wrapped his hands around Sam’s thighs, pulling him in as he drove into Sam, the pace punishing. He looked down where he could see his cock sliding in and out of Sam. Beads of sweat trickled down his neck and chest. His face was flushed with exertion, his lips tense, his eyes; _oh god,_ his eyes so deep and black with desire that Sam could get off just watching Dean’s face.

“Look so fucking beautiful, Sammy- oh fuck-“ he ground out as he pistoned his cock in and out of Sam. “Wanted to fuck you for so long, jesus- just like this-” He opened his mouth and leaned his head back, his eyes half closed, and Sam could tell Dean was close.

Sam reached for his cock, hard as nails and weeping strings of precum all over his stomach, and stroked himself. They locked eyes as they rode their way to orgasm. Sam watched Dean bite his lip and when he said, ”Love you Sammy, love you so much-“ he groaned loudly as he came in thick spurts over his pumping fist. Dean’s hand slid over his to pull the last drops of come from his cock, then he barked out _Fuck_ and came hard, thrusting deep with each pulse of his orgasm.

He pulled out carefully and they collapsed on the bed together, lost in a post-orgasmic haze and coming down slowly.

Dean leaned into Sam’s exposed armpit, inhaling the musky scent of sweat and sex. Licking him lightly, he smiled. Sam thought he’d never felt as intimate and close to anyone than at that moment. He smiled back softly.

“You love me, huh?” He said, seeing Dean go all bashful again. He didn’t deny it, though. Just put his head on the pillow and let his hand lay on Sam’s chest, idly playing through his chest hair.

“Me, too, Dean. Forever.”

They lay there with their bodies cooling, relaxed and boneless, slipping into a deep sleep that was, for the first time in a long time, peaceful and free of nightmarish dreams.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, readers, for sticking with me on this long, long journey. Your comments and kudos make such a difference. I know it seems like this story will never end, but I promise not to leave you hanging. Love you all!  
> xoxo


	29. Ch 29- A Walk In the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas has been acting strangely lately, and it isn't just because he's pining for Dean. Sam and Dean track a mysterious figure and encounter a scene that takes them back to their hunter days.

 

Chap 29

 

 

Sam and Carla sat in the clinic, eating what the mess hall dared to call the soup of the day; a watery concoction of a few vegetables and pasta floating around in a greasy broth. At least the bread was good- freshly baked and crusty - tasty enough to make up for the blandness of the thin soup. _No point in bitching, at least there was something to eat._ With more survivors arriving weekly, coming up with ways to feed everyone was becoming a challenge. Sam tried to concentrate on the bread and ignore what was in his bowl.

“Soon as the weather breaks, we need to get some crops put in. I’ve got a few real farmers lined up to handle it. By next winter, this shit shouldn’t happen anymore.“ he said, scowling at the unappetizing meal in front of him.

“Yeah. That would be nice.” She answered without enthusiasm.

He watched her as he sucked on his spoon for a moment. Damn if she wasn’t still messed up over the death of the Goodall baby. He used to feel like that before he learned to compartmentalize all the shit. By 16, he was used to death.  By 18, he was an expert at dishing it out.

But Carla still felt the pain of that baby dying as if were happening every day.  He wondered if she thought about her dead son and husband that way, too.  Damn. Seeing her pain, he wondered if his warped upbringing wasn’t a blessing of sorts.

“You tried your best, Carla,” he ventured. She turned slowly to look at him; her face etched with pain.

She made a little face; a quirky lift of the lips that let him know she was trying. Not successful, but trying.

“With all the death we’ve seen in the last few years, you’d think I’d be used to it. But this baby…,” she said in a low tone. “It’s just so damn disappointing, you know? I thought we had something.”

He nodded grimly. “I hear you. But right now, we just do the best we can, alright? Just keep on pressing forward.”

She nodded and turned her attention back to the soup. The doors to the clinic swung open and Dean walked in- or _swaggered_ would be a better word, Sam thought.  No matter how much shit was going down, Dean always seemed to have a handle on it. Only Sam knew about his private doubts, but today it looked like Dean was on top of his game.

“Boys and girls- enjoying your delicious lunch?” he said by way of greeting as he swung a chair around and straddled it. He eyed their food with suspicion. “Damn, that shit looks nasty. Hey, Sam- I’ve got the go ahead to take a few guys and a couple trucks to the city and grab some stuff. We’ve got a list of wants from everybody. Actually, I’m here to see what the doctor needs…” He turned and gave her one of his heart melting megawatt smiles.

She couldn’t help but smile back because, dammit, how could you resist that face? When Dean turned on the boyish charm it was all over but the crying. Sam just sat back and watched the magic happen.

“I’ve got a few things on my wish list, if you’re interested,” she replied with a little grin.

“I am. Just let me write ‘em down…”

“That won’t work.” Carla said before he managed to find a pen. “Most of its medical equipment and you wouldn’t know how or where to find it, and anyway- I want to come with you.”

“Not such a good idea, Doc. We don’t really take civilians along-“ Dean trailed off as she fixed him with a no-nonsense stare that had ‘mother’ all over it. Damn, she had her own kind of mojo, Sam thought. One that actually worked on Dean.

“You got a problem with women, Dean?”

“Uh. No-“

“What then? Civilians? Doctors in particular?” Her seriousness was brutal in its intensity. The way she pinned Dean with a stare made Sam glad _he_ wasn’t on the receiving end.

“No! Course not. You could get hurt is all. I don’t need that on my conscience…”

She looked at Sam and rolled her eyes, then back at Dean. “Jesus Christ, is he fucking serious? You serious? I walked eight hundred miles to get here and you’re gonna play protective daddy with me? Unbelievable.”

Dean just looked at Sam and shrugged as if to say, _help me out here, Sammy_. Trouble was, Sam was enjoying this far too much to do more than lift his eyebrows and move his mouth into a little pout. _What do you want me to do about it? She wants to go, let her go._

With an exaggerated huff, Dean threw up his hands. “Fine! But don’t get in the way and don’t cause any trouble. We’re not on a joyride here, this is a serious mission.”

“Too late. Sam already clued me in on the purpose of your serious mission. What was it again? Oh yeah. Skin mags, candy and kittens. I get that right?” She was smiling, but there was a hint of steel underneath. Sam watched Dean smile back, appreciating her as a worthy opponent.

Dean raised his hand and ran it over his spiky hair. “We’re getting other supplies, not just the fun stuff. And don’t you dare tell anyone about the cat thing, got me?” He finished, pointing with his index finger. “ And you, Sam. What part about discreet do you not get?”

It was great to see him like this. A little off balance, a little flirty, and so damn sexy that he wanted to wrap his arms around him and kiss him senseless.

Dean reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew two Powerbars. “Now, if you’re finished with that delish lunch, maybe you still have room for dessert.” He tossed them to Sam and headed for the door. “See you at the Crossroads after work? I need to blow off steam after this week. We’ll make it an early night. Leaving at 0700 in the morning.” He nodded at Carla. “Come with us, Doc. You could use it, too.”

“Is he always that controlling?” she asked after he left.

“You’re kidding, right?”

***

Thank god there was decent food over at the beer joint; some kind of curry over rice. Dean speculated the meat was rabbit; Sam thought it might be chicken. Whichever it was, it was hot, hearty and the complex flavors layered over one another practically had Dean in tears. He really loved his food.

“You are seriously lacking in appreciation of fine dining, Sam.” Dean moaned in food porn ecstasy as he took another bite. “There’s got to be a new cook. Gotta be. This is too good. I can’t believe you aren’t as excited about this as I am.  Thought you were sick of that mess hall gruel.”

“No, man. It’s good, but I’m not having an orgasm over it.” Watching Dean eat was a little disgusting. All that chewing and talking with his mouth full, the food rolling around in there looking less and less appetizing. “Plus, your table manners- Pretty damn gross.”

Dean just looked at him in all innocence.

“What? I’m masticating.” He winked at Sam. Then he pitched his voice lower and let his eyes go sultry. “Hey Sam. Watch this. I’m masticating. In public. I _love_ public mastication. So fucking hot.” Then he straightened up and dropped the seductive act. “So where’s the Doc? Thought she was coming tonight? You scare her off or something?”

“Yeah, because I’m so possessive and can’t share you with anyone else...” Sam rolled his eyes. “I think she’s just not ready to get out and party.  You know. She’s just more introspective about it.”

“She drinks. Not that I’m judging.”

“Who the hell doesn’t?”

“Just saying. It’s not a good thing, drinking alone.” Dean raised his whiskey glass and did a mock toast.

“We’re the last ones who can talk. I mean- shit- I put away so much liquor since we’ve been here it’s a wonder I still have a liver.” Spending every night thinking about Dean and Cas getting freaky was part of it, but no point in bringing that up.

“I used to think I had the alcohol abuse gene of the family, but you kind of took that crown, didn’t you?” Dean’s tone was light, but the way he looked at Sam was full of thought. How could he help but notice that his brother spent most nights drinking, if not getting downright drunk. While it was comforting on one hand that Dean was worried about him, it still rankled that he felt the need to point out his failing.

“It doesn’t affect how I do my job, Dean. I missed work a couple of times, but who hasn’t? Anyway, it’s not like it matters. I don’t think anything we do here matters anymore.” He picked up his glass and drained it. “We’re just going through the motions, far as I’m concerned.”

Damn. The conversation went from fun to shit in about 10 seconds. All he wanted to do was go to bed and hold Dean- and not think about the fucking world anymore.

“You used to be the optimist.”

Dean looked at him, his eyes so full of care and that big-brotherly concern of his that Sam felt guilty for being such a cynical asshole. “I’m really sorry about that, Sammy. I fucked up. I should have been there for you and instead I’m running around playing cop.”

“Dean. It’s okay. You’re needed here. This job- it’s the closest thing there is to saving people now, and fuck- it’s what we were raised to do, right? We can’t change what we are. I’ve got your back for as long as you need me, and I’m not leaving until you’re ready to leave with me.”

Dean sat silently for a minute. Processing.

“I miss our house, too, you know. If I could live with myself I’d go back there in a heartbeat…”

“We will, Dean.” He brushed his fingers over Dean’s. “But for now, I’m good. I got plenty to keep me busy. And you do, too. So don’t worry about me, cause as long as we’re together, I’m good.”

Dean looked at him steadily, the worry slowly leaching away and replaced with tenderness. Almost before he knew it, Dean grunted and fixed his ‘manly man’ persona back into place.

“Yeah, well-“ he gruffed, “Just so you know, I’m good, too.”

So like him. A man of little words. But he was satisfied with that.

“Not to change the subject, but, what the hell is going on with Cas lately?” Dean muttered.

“I don’t see him that much. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, exactly. He just seems- off. Aside from the fact that he’s avoiding me like the plague, he’s always going missing. Nobody knows where to find him and he turns up later looking like he went 10 rounds with Mike Tyson.”

“Like beat up looking? Injured?” Sam had issues with Cas, but didn’t want to see him hurt. Unless he did the punching. Okay. Not lately, but still. Not his favorite person.

“No. More like exhausted. Put through the wringer. That kinda thing. Since he won’t talk to me, I was hoping he’d come to see you about whatever’s bothering him.”

“Doubt he’d ever do that.”

Dean looked at him curiously. Jesus. He still hadn’t figured it out?

“Dude. You still don’t get it?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Cas was… is,” he poured himself another from the bottle on the table while he paused. “The guy’s in love with you. So you see why I’m the last person he’d come to for caring and sharing.”

Dean gave a little laugh and then got serious when he realized Sam wasn’t joking.

“I don’t think- I mean, he was a little horny. Shit. Everyone in this place is- all the fucking time. But, in love? Come on.”

“Not kidding. He told me so. Or rather, I guessed it. So maybe he’s just going off by himself and dealing. Who knows.”

Dean sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes. Part of Sam worried he was wondering if he made the wrong choice, being with him instead of his profoundly bonded ex-angel. Just about the time the tension was getting unbearable, Dean spoke.

“I feel kinda bad about that. But it never would of worked out the way he wanted.”

“Because?”

Dean looked at him and made that face he always did that implied that Sam was being an idiot.

“I’ll tell you about it later. _In private_. If that’s okay with you.”

 Sam grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.

***

They called it an early night and headed back to Sam’s room, taking the long away around along the trees. Walking in companionable silence, their shoulders brushing against each other. Sam felt warm inside, and not just from all the liquor. Having Dean back made everything better. He found himself sneaking glances at him as they walked because, damn, he could never get enough of looking at him and thinking, _mine now_.  It was almost overwhelming, sometimes.

“Hold up, Dean.”

Dean stopped and looked at him, a question in his eyes until Sam wrapped his arms around him.

“Hey, man. Privacy, right?”

“Shut up. There’s no one around to see anything.”

Sam pulled him close and kissed him, all warm and tasting of whiskey. His hands reached up to rest on the back of Dean’s neck, brushing the short hairs and stroking softly as their lips moved gently together. Dean’s hands pulled him closer, and he made a little grunt of pleasure as he kissed Sam back.

“Mm… been wanting to do that all day, Sammy.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” He breathed against Dean’s mouth. “Let’s get back so you can do that thing you needed to tell me in private.” He nipped gently at Dean’s lips and it thrilled him when he felt Dean groan and press his hips against him.

Dean suddenly stiffened and muttered _what the hell_ looking over Sam’s shoulder. Sam turned and saw a figure, barely visible in the gloom, heading from the edge of the clearing into the trees.  He felt a prickle run up his spine and he recognized it as his hunter’s instinct, and it was screaming at him that something hinky was going on.

“Any idea why someone’d be leaving camp after dark, Dean?”

“No good reason I can think of. Come on.”

They followed the man at a fair distance to avoid being seen, and both instinctively checked for their weapons. Stands to reason Dean packed his pearl handled Colt everywhere he went, but funny enough, Sam was carrying, again, too. 

The moonlight was bright enough that they could fall back, taking care to remain hidden while they trailed their quarry. The man moved quietly but surely through the trees with the bearing of someone who knew where they were going. No hesitancy. No looking over his shoulder.

They walked for over an hour, and Sam was tiring, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins gave him the power to carry on. He glanced at Dean for a moment and saw he was as equally affected. The brightness of his eyes, the intense concentration and the way he carried himself, no movement made without deadly grace and deliberation; Dean was in his element. A hunter once and for all. He took the lead and Sam was backup, just like old times. It felt so natural that he was startled to realize how much he’d missed it.

They came upon a clearing where there sat the remains of an old, wooden church. The front doors hung loosely on their hinges like a grand old dame with her wig askew.  It was a pretty place once, gleaming white all the way up to the cross sitting atop the pointed steeple. Large arching stained glass windows lined the sides of the church, half of them missing and broken. It looked like it had been abandoned long before the Croatoan hit. The paint was now peeling from the sides, exposing the worn wood beneath.

The man went up the sagging steps and slipped in the front doors. They snuck silently to one of the windows and looked in, watching as he moved to light a few candles placed on the altar. The light illuminated his face and Sam started just as Dean muttered an unbelieving _Cas?_ under his breath.

Cas had stripped off his clothes and dropped to his knees, his hands clasped before him in prayer. The words were unintelligible, but Sam could hear the steady roll of words as Cas prayed aloud.

“Enochian.” Dean whispered.

They locked eyes for a moment to see if either one had a clue as to what was going on, then back to the scene before them. As they watched, Cas raised his head, speaking louder, the Enochian words spilling from him like a river, louder until he was yelling them, his face contorted in agony. Whatever he was doing was painful, judging from the look on his face and the way he doubled over and jerked again and again.

“Christ, what the fuck is going on?” said Dean with distress.

“Should we stop it?” Sam asked, but Dean just shook his head and held up two fingers, his signal to _Hold_.  He could do nothing but remain on alert for whatever was next.

Without warning, Cas stopped and fell to the floor. He gave a couple of deep breaths and began praying again in Enochian, this time louder and deeper than before, pulling himself to his feet, outstretching his arms and yelling; the words tearing from his ragged throat as he flung back his head. Then he started screaming. Agonizing screams of pain and anguish ripped from him and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Dean yelled _Let’s go_ and they raced around the building to the front; Dean wrenching open the doors as they ran in. 

Cas was up on his toes. _No. Not on his toes. His feet hovered just inches off the floor, but goddamn they weren’t touching._ His arms were straining outward, ribs standing out in sharp relief, each muscle in his exposed back and shoulders, twitching and cramping with each scream. Sweat ran off him in rivulets, peppering the floor in dark drops. It looked like torture.

Before they moved two steps into the church, a high buzzing began, sharp in its intensity, and seeming to emanate deep in Sam’s own brain, then under his skin and along his nerves before it was everywhere at once. He saw Dean clutching his hands over his ears, his face twisted in agony as he yelled, “Cas! Cas!” but nothing could be heard but the screeching and buzzing feedback that made his brain throb as it got louder and the room filled with white as he the shrieking pain in his head became too much. With his last reserves of strength, he reached out for Dean, grasping only air before his eyes rolled back and he sank into unconsciousness.

***

“Sam? Sammy. Come on, wake up-“

 Dean was tapping him gently on the cheek, then one last one, not gently at all, but a sharp slap.

“Ow! Damn it, that hurt-“ he put up a hand to ward of any further blows.

Dean was kneeling over him. Behind him stood Cas, dressed and looking like a guy who’d just screamed his way through angel torture.

“How long was I out?” Sam asked, picking himself up.

“Looks like about three hours.” His face was grim.

“Three hours?” Sam shot a look at Cas. “You went through that for three hours, Cas?”

“It was necessary.” He glanced away, distracted.

Dean stood and motioned them to an empty pew.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I intend to find out. Cas, might as well make yourself comfortable, cause we’re not leaving until you explain just what the hell that was we saw and why the hell you’re doing it.”

***

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. xoxo


	30. Chapter 30- Angels in the Outfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Castiel's torturous ritual in the abandoned church, Sam and Dean learn some new secrets from their ex-angel friend. Trigger warnings for heavy mental anguish.

Ch 30

Cas slumped in the pew. He looked exhausted and beaten, his eyes bloodshot and ringed in red, with dark shadows beneath them. His chapped lips opened and closed without sound. Every ounce of energy seemed to have been sucked from him.

“So? Want to start telling me how many times you’ve snuck out here for this- whatever-it-is?”

Dean was in full inquisitor mode, Sam noticed. He paced back and forth, eyeing the ex-angel; expecting an answer. This was the scary as shit Dean that few people ever saw if they were lucky.

“Dean-“

“Cas, answer the damn question.”

Cas sighed deeply and nodded, staring at the floor.

“Six times.” He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. “I’ve been here six times.”

Dean pierced Sam with a look and they both thought the same thing. Did he go through this brutality every time? If so, it was a miracle he was still walking and talking.  Dean cleared his throat.

“What is it? Some kind of Enochian ritual? Don’t lie to me- I know when I've been bad touched by an angel.”

Dean was pissed as hell, but Sam could tell he was scared, too- not that he’s admit it.  Their last encounters with angels might be fuzzy in their memory, but they were both well aware of how brutal and vindictive the angels could be regarding the Winchesters. They had no friends in Heaven, that was a given. Even this one, supposedly once as close as a brother (in Dean’s opinion, anyway) couldn’t stop himself from betraying them time and time again – not mention nearly killing them a time or two.

Sam had a sudden thought.

“Cas. Are you an angel again?”

Cas looked bewildered for a moment, then looked at him and shook his head, smiling sadly. “No. I’m afraid not.”

“So what was going on?  Tell us so we can help you.” This was somehow more like the Castiel he remembered from the Old Days; when they were fighting to throw Lucifer back in his cage and Cas was the third leg of Team Free Will. Even broken and beaten, this Cas was infinitely better than some of the iterations of Cas that he remembered.  He soothed his nerves by recounting them; Rainman!Cas, Stripperclub!Cas, Pornafficionado!Cas, BAMF!Cas, Assbutt!Cas, Leviathan!Cas, God!Cas- he always had trouble recalling all of them.

“Sam," Cas plucked weakly at the sleeve of his jacket. "I’m sorry. I hurt you most of all. If there’s anyone on Earth who deserves my sincerest apologies the most, it’s you.  I don’t think I’ve ever really realized that until lately. I’m truly sorry and hope you’ll be able to forgive me someday.”

Wait. Did he just hear that right? Sam was instantly suspicious, of course and would reserve judgment. Still, nice to hear, though. Very nice.

“That’s great, but why now?” Dean queried. “What do you need so badly that you come this far into the woods to go though torture like that?”

“Redemption, Dean? Forgiveness. Atonement. There are so many things I need, and only a handful I dare hope for.” He looked to the altar, where a candle remained to brighten the gloom. “I can hear them, you know.  My Father has taken them back. Some of them, at least.”

Dean looked at Sam over Cas’ head, rubbing his hand over his mouth. Thinking.

Cas drew a breath. Not meeting their eyes, he began speaking.

“When I was first made human, it seemed like a blessing. God was gone. The only ones left in Heaven were those who wanted the destruction of everything He ever created, and – to be honest--I wanted to run away from all the fighting and scheming.  I wanted what you had, the two of you- to be part of a family again. To be able to feel things as you feel them. But I didn’t know where you were, or even if you were alive, and when the last cataclysm happened and the Croatoan virus destroyed humanity, it was as if Heaven was punishing me- making sure I survived all of it until the very end of everything.”

He looked at them, his face unable to hide the pain he felt. Sam watched the tears running down Cas’ face. Part of him wanted to feel more empathy instead of this curious, detached feeling. But that was probably par for the course when someone you trusted implicitly had been undermining you from the jump. He 

“I survived. A miracle some would say, but more accurately, a curse. Because when I die, will I even be allowed back in Heaven?- or because of my sins, the most arrogant of which was declaring myself God- would I be thrown into the Pit? It haunts me every day, thinking I may be damned. So- when I saw you again, both of you, it was like being reborn. Maybe I could trade the glory of the Heavenly Host for simple humanity. I could redeem myself if I could make it here…and you were here, Dean.”

Dean shifted his weight from foot to foot, his nervous energy a sure sign to Sam that he was feeling Cas was about to venture into uncomfortable territory.

“I can’t pretend it wasn’t glorious seeing you again. Ever since I’d raised you from perdition, I’ve felt that we had  –“

“- A bond.” Dean said, finishing the sentence.  He smiled warmly and a little sadly at Cas, who seemed a bit startled by it.

“Y-yes. Exactly.  That which led me to defy heaven and accept the idea of free will. It was you, Dean. I did it all for you. Not Humanity, which I led you to believe, but you- as a man.” He wiped his eyes, momentarily overcome. “Suddenly you were here, with Sam… and you and he were meant for something that I wasn’t able to be a part of, and- I accept that. I do. No matter how I hoped it would be you and I… I see that it wasn’t meant to be. But now what I really want is to return Home. Beyond anything, I just- I want to go Home.”

He sat, head bowed, as if the speech had depleted him of the last of his reserves. The air was heavy with emotion and watching Cas silently weeping cracked something open in Sam and he felt the anger and jealousy he carried for the angel for so long dissipate. It looked like Cas was just as fucked up as they were; just as lonely, just as lost and confused. The difference was, they dealt with it. He wanted to run away and pretend it never happened.

Sam reached out and touched his shoulder.

“But this, Cas. What does putting yourself through this have to do with all that?”

“I heard Him, Sam. Or rather, one who speaks for Him. Telling me there may be a chance for me, if I can admit my sins and pray for forgiveness. I’ll do anything Heaven asks me to if they’ll just take me back.” He smiled brokenly. “Being human is so hard. The emotions, they cripple me. I make a poor human, Sam - so full of jealousy, envy, anger-“

“That’s _bullshit_ , Cas” Dean broke in. “That’s exactly what makes us human. The petty shit. We make mistakes. We try our best and keep making mistakes, but we keep trying. We’re not perfect. And anyway- I thought you did your penance in Purgatory. What about that?”

Cas laughed weakly. “It didn’t work because that was _my_ idea. Again, my arrogance thinking I was smarter than Him. He didn’t ask for me to stay in Purgatory, I took that upon myself, thinking it should be good enough for God. He’s let me know that’s not the way it works.”

“And the 50 Shades of Angel Torture? What’s with that?”

Cas looked up at Dean.

“It’s me admitting my sins. Purging myself of my hubris and learning to accept humility. I don’t mind it, Dean.” He saw the skeptical look on Dean’s face. “Ask Sam, when he was performing the trials and feeling himself being purified, whether he wanted to stop once he knew what a profound affect it was having on him.”

Dean looked at Sam, and damn, Cas was right; there was no way he would have stopped when he knew it was cleansing him- making him pure again- removing the taint that clung to him like the scent of something rotten.  The only thing that stopped him in the end was trusting in Dean.

Dean spoke, his voice rough with emotion. “You can’t survive many more of these episodes, Cas. Do you realize this could kill you? _Do you have any idea?”_

“Yes, Dean. It may. Then again, it may not. I don’t know. If I become an angel again, my human self will in effect, be dead. But I’m prepared for it, whichever way Heaven decides. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.“ He laughed weakly. “Another sin to confess, I suppose.”

Dean walked over and threw himself in a pew. He sighed, shaking his head as if he just couldn’t get it. Looked at Sam, and they both acknowledged it was out of their hands. Cas would do as Cas would do.

“So you really want to keep doing this?” Dean asked. When Cas answered _yes_ , he just nodded and looked at Sam.

Despite everything; the lies, the hurts and the betrayals, something in Sam still cared what happened to Cas. Seeing him like this, willing to sacrifice his life for a chance to go home- he could relate.  God knows, he tried a life without Dean and it was nothing but a pale, watery imitation of living.  Tried it in college when he knew Dean was just a phone call away, and in his darkest time, with Amelia, when he thought Dean was dead, and he kept the promise to go on without him.  That wasn’t living. It was existing – and it was no kind of life. Not one he wished on anybody. Not even Cas.

“We got your back on this one, Cas.” Sam promised.

Cas looked up at him, his blue eyes tinged with tears. Human emotions that he wanted to give up because he could no longer bear them. He smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Sam. Thank you.”

Dean looked shaken, but in control. Sam could see he was holding back, but now wasn’t the time or place to confront that.

“Sam and I’ll keep quiet and you can keep coming until – well, how much longer you think you need to do this?”

“I don’t know, honestly. A few more times at least.  But I know something… I need to come with you tomorrow when you go into the city.”

“Huh? Wow, that’s random. Why?”

“I don’t know. Just that- it’s something I must do. It was imparted to me during my confession.”

“Oh, you mean your torture?” Dean added sarcastically.

“Dean.” Sam sighed.

“Sorry,” Dean grumbled, not sounding at all sorry.

Dean stood up, stretched and looked at his watch. “Well, ladies, it’s 2 AM. We head back now and we can get a couple hours sleep before we need to leave in the morning. What do you say we get moving?”

They all made their way out of the church and started walking back to camp.

“So God’s back…” Dean mused.

“Yes. He’s back in charge.”

Dean nodded, lost in thought.

“Well, you do me a favor, eh Cas?”

“Yes, Dean, of course.”

“When you get back, you tell him to get ready, because I’ve got a shit ton of questions for the bastard when I get there.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas is a complex character. I'm not a big fan of Cas after season 5. I think his "Hey Assbutt" was pretty much the pinnacle of the character. Since then, he' been disappointing me. But here's the Cas I'd like to see: conflicted, selfish and finally , accepting of the fact that Dean and Sam will be together, not Cas and Dean.
> 
> This was extremely difficult to write and I'm still not sure I accomplished what I wanted to. Comments and critiques welcome.  
> xoxo


	31. Ch 31- Operation Pussy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes good on his promise to bring back some "distractions" to keep up the spirits of the people at camp. Otherwise knows as the Skin mags, candy and kittens chapter. Yes! Kittens!!!  
> (oh, and a little explicit Wincest if you feel the need to skip that part!)

Chap 31- Operation Pussy

 

Dean spent the night in Sam’s room like he’d done for the last week. Nobody seemed to notice, or at least, nobody mentioned it where he could hear. Thank god, because if Dean got an inkling someone was connecting the dots and figuring out they were ‘more than brothers’ he’d shit his pants. Sam hated pretending, but if the cost of being open about it meant losing Dean…well, fuck-

He grabbed his shaving kit and snuck out early, heading to the showers for a hot one before they got their asses in gear for the trip into the city.  The camp, now over 700 souls, was quiet- a few people moving around slowly in the cold morning air.

The whole incident at the church still bugged him. Cas, who’d fucked him over royally more than once, actually apologizing- that was unexpected, and to be honest, he didn’t know how he felt about it. When all your dealings with angels has been bending over and taking it in the ass (and not in the enjoyable way), you got just a tad cynical. So yeah, he was suspicious. Fuck - suspicion was practically a Winchester commandment. Blind trust was for fools and could get you killed. They had plenty of experience with the ruthlessness of angels.

 And Cas admitting to Dean that he’d had a thing for him all these years? _Damn._ He knew that bothered Dean. Shouldn’t surprise him, though, the way Cas jumped when Dean said jump and made those bitch ass moon eyes at him all the time. Jesus, even the other angels commented on it, because subtlety wasn’t exactly Cas’ strong suit.

He had balls, though, gotta give him that- knowing all that time how Dean felt, how he felt about Dean, and keeping that shit to himself? That was a dick move. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t easy to have that kind of intimate knowledge, but really- making a play for Dean right under his nose? Yeah. That took balls.

There was more to this angel thing – he felt it. If God was back, who knows what kind of fuckery was happening up there, and Christ, he didn’t really give a shit- just as long as they stayed there. Heaven had screwed the pooch one too many times for Sam to believe more trouble wasn’t coming down the pike. As Dean would say, he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The showers were clean and fairly empty, so he took advantage of it and let himself enjoy ten minutes worth of water, despite the rules.  He let the warm water rain down on him as he scrubbed away the itchy come dried on his belly and clotted up in his pubic hair. Not for the first time, he contemplated shaving it all off. Maybe Dean would like that. He got a little hard thinking about it. Definitely need to put extra razors on the list-  the idea had merit, he smiled to himself.

Dean. Everything came back to him. _Always thinking about you, Dean- even when I’m washing my balls. Especially when I’m washing my balls._

By the time he got back, Dean was up and getting his own shower gear together.

“The fuck, Sammy, why didn’t you wake me?” He looked sleepy and scowled like a little kid. Damn adorable, his hair sticking out in all directions, but of course he couldn’t say that. Not if he didn’t want to ride all morning with Dean being a bitch.

“You looked too peaceful. Wanted to let you sleep in.” He tossed him a fresh towel. “You know you liked it.”

Dean just grunted, but the slight twist of his mouth let Sam know he was right.

***

Sam rode shotgun like always; Carla and Cas in the backseat of the pickup. He sat sideways, turned so he could carry on a conversation. He liked it because he was facing Dean and could watch him all he wanted for as long as he wanted; which was pretty much the whole two hours.

Dean caught him. It was a throwback moment to hot summer days in the Impala with the windows down and wind noise drowning out whatever mullet rock was playing on the radio. He couldn’t help but grin. Damn, but moments like this didn’t come along every day.

“Sammy?” Dean looked puzzled, one eyebrow arched.  He got it, then- the look in Sam’s eyes, full of promise and temptation, and he turned his lips up a bit as he went back to driving. Sam smiled to himself and looked out the window.

“Anything in those CD’s besides AC/DC, Dean?” Carla yelled over the seat. “I think we all need a turn.”

Dean grinned widely in anticipation and Sam knew exactly what he was thinking. As Dean held up a finger and opened his mouth, Sam cut in.

“Driver picks the music, Carla.” He’d been dying to say that, even though he was sick to death of the Back in Black album; though to be fair, he considered the title track one of the best rock songs ever recorded. Dean knew it, too; probably one of the reasons he played it twice already.

Dean’s mouth snapped shut and he nodded righteously. “Damn straight, Sam.” But he passed the slim CD wallet over the seat without looking back.

As Carla mulled over the choices (with disappointment, Sam was sure, because he knew exactly what Dean’s go-to music was) Cas stared dispassionately over her shoulder- about as familiar with what he was looking at as a polar bear performing heart surgery.

“So. Walmart, Petsmart, hospital and then cat hunting? What about that doesn’t sound weird as hell, Dean?” Sam asked.

“Dude. You said you were totally on board for this!”

“Oh, I am. Believe me. But, man- we’ve got our work cut out for us if we want to get it all done in time to get back by dark.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Cats. There’s something I never thought I’d be hunting.”

“Think of it as getting back in the game, tiny style. We just get our asses in gear and get the shit done. No different than any other hunt, am I right?”

“Last time we came in, I saw some feral cats hanging around the landfill.  Must be enough to eat there-“

“About twenty years’ worth of rotting garbage at least. Damn. I do _not_ look forward to stomping through that shit.” Which Sam didn’t understand because they’d stomped in worse- hell, they’d been sprayed with every version of monster goo, blood, piss, shit and ectoplasm there was.  It was just par for the course.  Long as you could shower it off, you were golden.

Carla handed the CD case back over the seat without words. Dean didn’t bother to comment, just turned the volume up a little. Then he looked up at the rear view checking on Cas, who was unusually quiet. Despite the lightheartedness, the knowledge that that angels were back in heaven made prickles of unease run along Sam’s skin making the hairs stand on end. He could just imagine what Dean was feeling. As if they needed more shit added to the steaming pile they were dealing with- fucking _angels_.

“You still hearing angel radio?” he spoke into the rearview.

Cas met his glance in the mirror and nodded minutely. “Yes. Nothing of import. I mean- nothing you would comprehend. Think of it as the angels singing praises to God and their happiness to be back in Heaven.”

Dean raised his brows- his version of eyeroll lite.

“Long as they stay the hell up there and leave us the fuck alone, I’m good. I hope I never see another one of those feathery assholes ever again – no offense, Cas-“

“None taken.” He glanced away, staring off into the middle distance. Just what was going through his head was a mystery to Sam. It was always impossible to read the angel, whether he had grace or not.

“Well, have you figured out why you’re supposed to come with us? I don’t want to be lifting stacks of Busty Asian Beauties and have some righteous angel come down and smite my ass…”

Sam snuck a look at Carla, whose eyes were as round as saucers.

“I have no idea, Dean. It was only communicated to me that I come. I don’t know why and my prayers have gone unanswered.” _Jesus. He looked like a kicked puppy._  

“You doing okay?” Dean asked. Cas shot back a look and a shrugged a shoulder as if to say, _who knows? -_ leaving Dean to struggle with whether to offer some kind of moral support or retreat into his normal, no-chick-flicks-moments persona. No surprise- he chose to give Cas a manly nod and looked at Sam with an expression that said he wasn’t sure if that was enough but that’s all he was getting.

***

After filling a truck with food and supplies- including emptying out the entire candy aisle of Walmart- Dean drove them around to couple of Game Stops and comic shops, lifting all the game consoles they could find because who would have thunk it, but post- apocalypse, gaming turned out to be the most popular pastime among the civs, besides drinking and fucking. “It lets them channel their rage and helplessness in a healthy way,” as Carla put it.

Well, okay, Sam thought- until someone got pissed off and beat the fuck out of his opponent for cheating or whatever. Overall, it was a better alternative. Probably. He’d rather be fucking, personally.

The stop at an adult bookstore perked everyone up, except for Cas, who still harbored a weird reaction to porn, in Dean’s opinion. Which was funny to Sam, because Cas seemed to know what he was doing when he had his paws all over Dean. Suddenly now he was a shrinking violet when confronted with a few tits and asses and some sex toys? 

Things like that pissed him off about Cas. He didn’t trust him. No matter that he was letting himself be Heaven’s punching bag or not- _this was fucking Castiel_ \- and no way in hell was he putting his ass in the angel’s care again, no matter what Dean had to say about it.

Carla insisted they take several boxes of toys. That earned her a sly look from Dean and a few choice comments about what she was going to do in her spare time. She was cool with it. Even asked Sam to pack several boxes of batteries, just for her. That’s kind of why he loved her a little bit.

He wondered if he was the only one who got a little randy when confronted with a whole store full of sex. Apparently not, when he noticed the militia guys huddled around a magazine, eyes glued to the pages, and Carla lost in racks of fetish gear, dildos and strap-ons, looking like it was fucking Christmas. He really needed to ask her about that sometime.

Dean came up and pulled him aside, yelling to the others that they were going to check out the storeroom again and to just hang tight for a few. Sam followed him into the dark by the beam of a single flashlight. When they went into the stockroom, Dean closed the door behind them, locking it. He put the flashlight on a cabinet and the room glowed dimly in the reflected light. Sam caught his breath as Dean pushed him up against the door.

“Dean, what are you-“ But he knew.

Dean pressed up against him - kissed him thoroughly until his legs felt boneless.

“You think that’s fair, me having to drive all morning with you sitting there and looking at me like that?” Dean smiled against Sam’s mouth, breathing in what he was breathing out. “You know what you were doing to me- I don’t have that good of a poker face.”

He kissed Sam again and rubbed his hands along his jacket and under it, pulling him close with a moan. Hotter still knowing the rest of the group were waiting for them to come back any minute. Dean was stroking his rock hard dick through his jeans.

“I figure we got about five minutes until someone starts looking for us. Now- you gonna make good on that offer you made back in the truck?” _Oh, the one where he was staring at Dean’s crotch, wanting to lean over and give him the best fucking blow job of his life?_ Looks like he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought.

Dean turned them around, settling his back against the door.  His eyes were wide and full of anticipation. There was a hint of darkness there, too- a sensuality that smoldered somewhere deep and dark and was, as yet, unexplored. Sam knew that no matter what Dean asked, he’d do it, do anything he wanted because he _needed_.

Dean licked Sam’s lips- took his lower lip between his teeth. It was like he was tasting him.

“Go down on me, Sammy.” It wasn’t strictly an order, but _oh fuck_ , pretending it was made Sam nearly jizz on himself. _Christ, he had a few kinks._ He turned on the puppy eyes and dropped into the role, - a little softer- a little unsure. Hopefully Dean got it. It’d be embarrassing as hell if he ended up having to explain.

“I- do I have to?”

The fire in Dean’s eyes blazed and he smiled slowly. Oh yes. He understood _exactly_.

“I wasn’t asking, was I?” his hands moved to his belt, working his pants open. “Get on your knees and suck my cock.”  A thrill ran through him and he bit out a moan as Dean pushed him down, a little on the rough side, and guided his dick into his mouth without preamble.

It was sloppy and wet, but _so fucking good_ , taking him down and working his mouth, his tongue – every trick in the book. Wanting to please Dean; make him lose himself- because _that_ was the power. That was when he knew he was the one in control- and it was intoxicating.

When he looked up, Dean stared down at him, his mouth open in an _O_ , his eyes half closed. Dean’s hand came down to brush the hair out of his eyes- then slipped back to curl into the strands behind his head, tightening.

“Want to see you. _Jesus-_ look so perfect on your knees like that…”

 He leaned his head back and moaned as Sam took him in extra deep, felt himself gag and Dean whispering nonsense between breaths that bordered on whimpers - _ohfuckyessammy-_ he knew it was good.  Could feel Dean getting close, his breathing ragged, his hands resisting the urge to force himself down Sam’s throat while his hips couldn’t resist rocking back and forth into the slick wetness of Sam’s teasing mouth. With a muffled cry he came - pulsing hot, his body rocking with little jerks as he let Sam take all of him.

Sam stood up and wrapped his arms around Dean, who was all loose limbed and hanging off of Sam’s shoulders catching his breath. “Jesus – Sam-“

 They kissed and Dean grunted because Sam knew he could taste himself on his tongue. Goddamn, if they only had a few more minutes to spare- but already they heard someone calling for them and Dean had unlocked the door and pulled it open, yelling, “Yeah! On our way- nothing else we need here-“

Dean turned to him as the headed out into the light. “That was fun, “ his teeth shining in the sun as he reached up and gave one last tug on hair at the nape of his neck, and whispered _tonight_ under his breath.

***

During a stop for lunch, they went over the game plan for what Dean dubbed Operation Pussy.

“Since cats don’t usually breed in cold weather, we might not get the kind of return you’re hoping”, Carla said. “Then again, if the colony is holed up someplace warm and has access to food and water, who knows, they might behaving litters right and left.”

“We just look, I guess. Like Sam said, it’s not what we’re used to hunting, but a hunt is a hunt, so we go into the likeliest spots where a colony is bedded down and check it out. Easy as pie.”

Dean was determined to bring back some fucking cats. Sam thought that was the funniest thing about the whole idea. He wasn’t taking no for an answer- and it made him smile because this was the Dean he remembered; stubborn and a little puffed up with himself.

“What are you grinning at, pussy wrangler?” Dean asked him.

“Nothing, really. Except if we’re going with the cowboy thing, and I’m a pussy wrangler, does that make you a pussyboy?”

Dean choked so hard that Cas had to slap him on the back a couple of times until he caught his breath.

“How long it take you to come up with that one, Sammy?” he said once he got his color back.

“I guess that makes me Dr. Pussy!”

“Not if you don’t want to be harassed by every horny dude in Camp Hope, you won’t” Dean barked with a laugh. “How many people you got coming in with unnecessary reasons to drop their pants?”

“Too damn many!”

“Alright then. You can be Cat Woman, or Pussy Galore, nah-- to problematic.”

The three militia guys who were still pissed about the kitten hunt being sprung on them were softening up a little and laughing along.

“You guys will be the Pussy Posse”, Dean declared, “and Cas, I’m sorry, but you’re obviously Angel Pussy” - earning a confused look from Cas as he puzzled out why everyone was laughing so hard.

Dean stood and wiped his hands on his pants. Okay then. Pussy Patrol was ready to up and at em.

***

It was almost ridiculously easy catching the kittens.

They were on the way to the hospital for Carla’s med equipment when they rolled up on a group of about twenty cats lounging on the steps of a clothing store in the downtown area. At the approach of the vehicles, they saw the cats scatter and run inside.

“Well, Hello Kitty.” Dean sang as he pulled over. Two hours and plenty of scratches later they had fifteen kittens, around two to four weeks old in the travel crates they’d procured. Now, they sat and caught their breath, Carla disinfecting the scratches and stitching up one of the Pussy Posse, who’d gotten a laceration from piece of metal flashing.

“You don’t want to let these scratches get infected, guys. Until I can check out the health of the kittens, we don’t know what kind of diseases they’re carrying. Y’all need to keep these clean. Don’t fuck around with that, ‘kay?”  She spoke to them with the tenderness of a mother hen. They all kind of liked it. Even Dean.

“We got enough canned milk for the ones not weaned yet?” Dean asked to no one in particular.

“Might want to stop on the way back and pick up more” Sam said. “They all look unweaned to me, but if we got em any older, I doubt they’d domesticate enough to be pets.”

“Sam’s right. These guys are feral, so basically, they’re wild animals. Whoever takes them needs to know it’s going to take a real commitment to make them pets. Starting with feedings every few hours around the clock for the littlest ones.”

Dean was sitting there, cradling a tiny black and white kitten in his rough hands. It was small enough to fit in his palms, and he sat stroking it with gentle fingers- talking softly to it and rubbing his finger over and over its tiny head and behind its ears. It meowed nonstop.

“I don’t know, Sam. He _is_ pretty damn cute. Think Ozzy would put up with sharing his house with little Sylvester, here?”

Well, fuck- he’d already named it so it was a good bet the little guy was coming home with them. And then he realized, _Dean’s talking about going home_ , and he felt irrationally giddy about that.

“As long as you can talk Milo into helping out with the feedings, I think that would be awesome.”

“Oh, he will, as soon as I tell him we’re giving him another one for his own.” Dean said. “Now, let’s get this shit packed up and hit the hospital so we can get back before too late. I’m so fucking hungry I could eat a horse.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's no picnic to hand raise kittens- especially feral ones. But my research did lead to an excellent website for anyone finding themselves in the position of hand raising kittens: http://www.2ndchance.info/orphankitten.htm
> 
> Thank you, people! Hope you enjoyed this frothy, fluffy chapter!  
> xoxo


	32. Ch 32- Winchester Bros. Moving Co.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After loading their trucks with skin mags, candy and kittens for the bored residents of Camp Hope, Sam, Dean and the crew stop at a hospital for medical supplies, where something goes terribly wrong.

 

Chapter 32

 

They stowed the kittens and headed to the hospital. Carla was on the hunt for some particular pieces of medical test equipment and when she rattled off the names, Dean held up a hand and shook his head. She just smiled and said, “Told you I needed to come along” smugly.

Previous trips to the city had determined that 3 of the 4 hospitals in Colorado Springs were severely damaged during the bad days, so they headed for Baptist Hospital, the one they thought might have what she needed. As they rolled up, it was apparent the hospital hadn't escaped the carnage, because one side of the building was blackened and burnt. Cars and ambulances were jammed in every available space in the Emergency entrance, like every sick person had decided to visit the hospital all at once. But of course they had. It was the virus. And the violent Croat horde that came after. 

Desiccated bodies were piled at the side of the building like so much cord wood. There were bones exposed and – pieces- was the only way Sam could think of it. Looks like scavengers has been here, too. Even if you blocked out the bodies, he thought, you still had the hospital itself, looming like an ominous monster with black, burnt out eyes. 

He knew he wouldn't enjoy poking around in there. Seemed like every time he was in a hospital, some shit went down and it was always bad.

His feelings must have shown on his face, because Dean stopped in the middle of adjusting his holster and nodded at him. 

“Problem?”

“Nah. Just hate hospitals.” He shrugged. No sense telling Dean that every time he went in one he was reminded of Dad dying , Bobby dying or seeing Dean on the brink of death. It was kind of morbid. And a bit pussyish.

“Well lemme know if you want me to hold your hand or something.” He smirked.

“Dick. Come on, let's go.”

They entered the building from the front and just like he thought, it was not good. This is where they came with their last hopes. Maybe they came when they were still healthy enough to realize something was wrong. Maybe some of them were turned by the ones who'd gone Croat while waiting for treatment. It didn't matter how, but it all spoke of violence; the bodies, the rusty brown stains that splashed over the walls and furniture, the bloody hand prints on the walls. Carla gasped and she and the two militia guys ran outside to retch. 

Sam could feel his bile rising in his throat, and he managed to tamp it down. Blood? He was used to blood. Had seen enough violence to last ten lifetimes. It shouldn't bother him this much, but damn- it was like seeing a piece of the world fall away- this snapshot of what it was like when people realized something hellish was upon them. 

“Easy there, Sammy, “ Dean reassured in a low voice. “Nothing we ain't never seen before. You good?”

He nodded back to Dean and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He's right. This is bad, but he's seen worse, and survived it. “It's okay, Dean. I'm good.”

 _Oh, not good at all, dude- not by a long shot_ , but no way in hell is he telling Dean that. He was jittery and tight as a bow.

They found the hospital directory and determined they needed to go to the fourth floor. Immunology. Somewhere in there was the shit Carla needed. She better find a motherfucking cure, Sam thought, because she owed him big for this.

The stairwell was inky black and the white of their flashlights speared through the darkness - like lightsabers, he decided. It was a technique he'd developed when he was a teenager and on his first hunts. Take the fear and turn it towards something funny, or stupid - anything distract himself. The weight of the stairwell with it's occasional corpse blocking the way was oppressive. No amount of Star Wars references was gonna make this fun.

“Guys, it's gonna be a bitch carrying shit down the stairs with these bodies in the way. Why don't you clear it out while we go on and get what the Doc needs?” he said to the two uniformed men, who looked relieved to not have to go on, but disgusted with the task their boss handed them.

They made their way to the fourth floor landing and onto the floor. It was less horrific here, and the stench not quite so sharp. Carla and Cas hadn't said a word, but their faces were white and Sam was surprised they'd made it this far without complaint.

“You guys okay?” he asked, putting a hand on Carla's shoulder. She looked at him with eyes that made him think of every person he'd saved from something monstrous and evil. The same what-the-hell-is-going-on-here look in her eyes. Cas was grim, but holding his own. Sam smiled reassuringly at them- that same look he used on all the innocent victims he and Dean dealt with. The one that said he knew what he was doing and it would be okay.

Dean turned back to see what the hold up was.

“No time for caring and sharing, boys and girls- we got work to do.” He kept it light, and his boss man demeanor took the edge off. It broke the spell and Carla got a case of the giggles. She was a little hysterical, but that was alright. He understood.

“Damn, stunk to high heaven in there. Smelled like Sam's feet. Shit's nasty.” He grinned at Sam, who flashed him the bird.

“Fuck you, Dean. My feet might stink, but your ass crack is rank. Keep that thing away from me.”

“That's not what you said last night...” Dean stopped abruptly, his eyes darting back and forth between Carla, Sam and Cas. Sam thought he looked like a deer in the headlights. “Uh...um...” Yeah. More than a little awkward the way he was acting like a kid who'd gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was actually pretty funny, especially since it was no secret with Cas and Carla.

Sam grabbed his pack and threw it over his shoulder. “So where to, Carla?” he said, earning a look of thanks from Dean. 

They wandered the floor, letting her poke in and out of offices and exam rooms, weighing her options until she finally decided.

“Sam, you even listening to me?” Carla said with irritation.

“Huh? No. Yeah- um... what?” Dean was busy packing some things into a box and he looked just so damn _handsome_ , it was crazy. He couldn't stop looking at him. Damn distracting. 

“Can we stay on track, please?” she looked a little – alright, _a lot_ \- irritated with him. At least she laughed when he gave her a sheepish look and a shrug that said _I can't help it._

He wasn't exaggerating, either. He couldn't look at Dean without feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. Being able to look at him without hiding his feelings- Dean knowing how he felt – Dean wanting him, loving him – it was big. Huge. Overwhelming, really.

Did everyone go through this? Because this was unfamiliar territory to him. Even Jess, who he loved – thought he loved- it was never like this. This intensity. The kind of feeling where he wanted to put his hands on Dean and hold him- constant contact- to feel his heart beat under his hand and know they were together. That Dean was his and his alone.

Maybe it was because it was still so new, but even here in this horrific tomb of a building filled with the dead, he felt himself grinning like a loon as he thought of lying on the bed, arms and legs intertwined, breathing in the air Dean breathed out. Goddammit, yeah, he was stupid sick in love with his brother, and happy as hell about it. Christ, he was feeling sappy these days and loving every minute.

Cas pushed a wheeled cart toward the stairs. It was loaded with boxes and plastic bins filled with god knows what, everything precariously balanced. He was slowly pushing it and reaching out now and then to keep something from toppling over. Looked ridiculously like he did back in his angel-in-a-trenchcoat days, Sam thought. Like he was still getting used to controlling that human vessel and every movement was hesitant and slightly off kilter. He walked over.

“You need help with that, Cas?” No sense being a dick all day to the guy, even if he didn't like him all that much.

Cas looked at him and away, still uncomfortable around Sam. “No, I'm fine. I probably should have made two trips.”

“You think?” He quirked a brow, but helped load the bins beside the stairwell door. See? He could be civil. Even to an angel that tried to bone him more than once.

After an hour they'd finished gathering everything and the stairwell was cleared. Dean looked at the huge pile they'd gathered and shook his head as he looked at Sam. Sam knew what he was thinking – _this is a lot of shit_ \- and the idea of hauling it down the stairwell kind of sucked.

… 

“I really, _really_ need a drink when we get back,” Dean grumbled as the struggled with a huge, metal cabinet-like thing on the stairs.

“Two drinks,” Sam replied as he tried like hell to keep the cabinet from slipping from his hands. “maybe more, depending on how sore I get.”

“No shit, this thing is fucking awkward. No place to hold onto and I can't see the goddamn steps-” Dean ground out below him.

“Fuck- hold up Dean- stop.” He repositioned his grip. This thing was _fucking heavy_ , and Carla insisted on not tilting it, so that made it ten times more difficult to move. Sam's back was screaming as he bent painfully to maintain leverage over the metal cabinet.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing up there? Wait till we get home to play with yourself, I need to get this thing offa me-”

“Shut up, jerk. Trying to keep from dropping this fucker on you-”

“Well, hurry up, bitch, I ain't got all day-”

They inched it down, step by step and at the third floor landing, Dean griped at the pussy posse about not doing shit, so all four of them worked on moving the cabinet down the stairs, which proved even more difficult- since there was now less room, more stopping, more grip adjusting. By the time they made it to the second floor landing to catch their breath and wipe off the sweat, Dean was promising to rip them all a new asshole, Sam hated everyone and one of the soldiers called Dean a punk ass motherfucker.

From up on the fourth floor landing Carla called down, “You guys still working on that? Maybe if you turn it sideways it'll be easier to move. Whaddya think?”

Oh fuck. Even by the light of the flashlights, Sam could see the look on Dean's face. It was not pretty.

“Dean-” he warned, watching Dean inhale slowly.

“Got this, Doc- _thanks!_ ” he yelled up to her, his face still contorted and his voice clearly pissed.

“You sure? Cause I really think-”

“YEAH. GOT IT.”

A beat passed.

“But-”

Dean closed his eyes and called out politely, “ No problem, Doc. Looks like Sam forgot to eat his Wheaties this morning, but we're fine.”

“Okay then.” She called and they heard her retreating.

You couldn't help it. Looking at him standing there all puffed up with irritation. Goddamned adorable, Sam thought, and he saw the moment Dean looked back at him and quit being angry.

“What the fuck is it with women and moving things? No. Really-”

They all cracked up, the tension gone as if it had never been there and they laughed like a bunch of kids. Giggled even. Sitting in a dark stairwell with the decaying remains of dead people all around them and they were whooping it up. Christ, life was weird as hell.

The last flight of stairs was the hardest. Hands slick with sweat, it was more difficult than ever to maintain their hold on the thing. They nearly lost control of it more than once. Only three steps down and Cooper, the guy on Dean's side cried out in pain.

“Fuck – oh fuck, I gotta cramp-” he jerked the cabinet to a stop and in the confusion, Dean fumbled with the flashlight. Suddenly, everything was in motion and it was as if the cabinet was sliding from their fingers as they scrabbled to hold on.

“It's slipping! Dean- watch out!” Sam yelled as the heavy thing leaned forward out of his reach. He watched with horror as Dean and Cooper tried to stop the thing from falling, only to be thrown off balance. They toppled backward, losing their footing on the concrete stairs- until he couldn't see them anymore, just the cabinet rolling and ripping open as it tumbled the rest of the way down the stairwell, coming to rest in a twisted heap of bent metal and random contents at the bottom.

_oh god no no no -_

“Dean! Dean!” _fuck goddamn it –_ He scrambled down the stairs to where Dean and Cooper were laying, half under the remains of the cabinet. Cooper was moaning and holding his arm.

“Dude, I think it's broken.”

Sam yelled out “Get Carla and Cas down here!” then turned to Dean, who was laying on his back, looking up at him, a pained look on his face. “You're gonna be okay, Dean. Took a hell of a spill there, bro-” He was smiling, inside he wanted to fucking cry, but this was the time to keep your cool. Hell, they'd been roughed up in more hunts than he wanted to remember, and Dean always came out okay. Right? _Right...?_

“No shit, Sammy. Next time you get to be on the bottom.” he closed his eyes and sucked in his breath. “Fuck me. I think I'm hurt-”

Dean had big piece of twisted metal on his chest and Sam moved it gingerly, making Dean cry out in pain.

“Gotta see where you're hurt. I'm sorry, Dean, _oh god, baby, I'm so sorry_ -” He was trying hard not to cry, but when he saw the pieces of the metal frame piercing Dean's chest, he wanted to scream.

Carla was there, pushing him aside. He didn't see anything else, couldn't hear anything beyond the buzzing in his head – like he was frozen and losing his senses one by one. He was in shock, a part of him realized – the part that still made rational sense and wanted him to _just get it under control_ \- was telling him to get up. To fucking move. Help him. God damn – help Dean.

“Help him, Carla! Fucking do something!” he yelled at her, and she pushed him back and out of her face. _No, this is not happening. Not now._

“Sam. Sam! Listen to me. He's bleeding badly, he needs blood- and surgery. I'm gonna do what I can, alright? I don't know, Sam- it's bad-” 

_oh god._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates. Life happens, and the holidays make things harder! Hope you enjoy this chapter.


	33. CH 33 - Broken Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctor performs emergency field surgery on Dean and Sam is faced with a terrible choice to make.

***

 

Everything around him seemed to be in a fog- like cotton was stuffed in his ears – like listening through a muffler- and a gauzy haze settling over everything- except the bright red blood pooling out from underneath Dean's chest.

 

and Dean...

 

Standing out sharp in relief with his lips pressed in a tight line, almost like a photograph that had been over sharpened to the point of jaggedness. It was all he could focus on. Those lips clenched in pain.

 

It seemed like he was taking snapshots with his memory. Carla moving the metal aside; Dean arching in pain; the horrible wetness and damage when she cut open his shirt. Making new, terrible memories; ones that you never wanted to pull out and examine ever again- but he was unable to stop.

 

Looking at his brother.

 

So fucking pale that it scared him. Pale enough that his lush red mouth was a washed out pink. His caramel freckles now bold spots on the whitening expanse of his skin. And still, he's trying to smile at him. Smile! Always the big brother...wanting to make it easy on Sam.

 

The fuzziness enveloped him like soothing cotton batting and he would have stayed there forever until he was knocked sideways by a blow to the cheek. It was Carla, screaming at him. How long had she been screaming?

 

“SAM- Listen to me! SAM?!” Another blow to the head and he shook himself and looked around.

 

“Yeah- yeah...I hear you.” Yeah, he did, but somewhat removed from it all. Like he was watching a play or the scene from a movie, and then it dawned on him that it was Dean laying there, bleeding out. He shook the last of the cobwebs from his mind and  focused.

 

Watching Dean's shallow breaths, he felt himself breathing heavily- almost as if he could help Dean by force of will.

 

“I said he needs blood. He needs it bad, Sam, or he's not gonna make it. Hell, I don't know if he's gonna make it or not, but he damn sure won't if he doesn't get a transfusion now. You know his blood type?”

 

She pulled Sam's hand over one of the wounds to apply pressure. This was not how it was supposed to be . No. Not like this.

 

“O negative,” he murmured. Dean smiled up at him, a little fleck of red on his lips. It scared the hell out of him, but he just smiled back. He tried his best to make the smile sincere and confident, because at the back of Deans' eyes, there was something there. Something that looked like the beginnings of panic.

 

“Oh fuck. That's just great, couldn't be anything easy, had to be some fucking rare ass-”

 

“I'm O negative, too...” Sam interrupted her. She stopped and stared at him for just a second and murmured _damn, not fucking surprised_ under her breath- then was back in action. She had Cas and the other soldier move as much of the wreckage away from Dean so she could work.

 

“Hurry up, Carla, just take as much as you need from me-” he was talking to her but he was watching Dean. His eyes so green in the paleness of his skin – shining out at him wet and wide. Like when they were kids- before the weight of the last 15 years had given him a perpetual scowl and that look that said he knew you were out to fuck him over. Those were the days he remembered now- when they sat on the car on the side of the road drinking beer with no particular place to go.

 

“It's gonna be okay, Dean- this is nothing, man. _Nothing_. I promise you're gonna be alright. This is gonna be easy, Dean. We can do this...” he traced the arch of Dean's brow with one finger. “Not gonna let anything happen to my brother... _promise, babe.._.”

 

Dean struggled to lick his lips, then weakly whispered, ”Of all the shit I though was gonna take me down, Sammy... a fucking flight of stairs...”

 

Dean could appreciate irony. That's for damn sure. Funny enough, they used to talk about it a lot when they were younger,how they might go out. It was a given that it would be bloody, every hunter knew the score, but would it be a vengeful sprit, a black dog, a wendigo? They laughed about it and even made some half-hearted bets on who'd have the most spectacular death. Once Dean went to Hell,talking shit like that wasn't funny anymore, because they both wondered at that point if they weren't destined for the flames after all 

 

Carla prepped Dean by administering painkillers first “He's hurting, so we're gonna start him with a nice dose of morphine.” He smiled at her and whispered, A _wesome, Doc_ before closing his eyes in pain.

 

_It was taking so long. How hard was it to stick a couple of needles in their arms and be done with it?_

 

She must have read his mind because she blurted out, “You don't wanna rush this, Sam. Need to keep things clean and this god _damn_ environment is dirtier that unwashed shit-” she briefly looked around as she worked to wrap Dean's arm with rubber tubing and wipe him down with alcohol.

 

“Carla. He's losing so much blood...”

 

“I know. We get some blood going into him and I can poke around and see what needs to be stitched up. We're gonna be touch and go for awhile- you understand?” Goddamn, but she was professional when she wanted to be. It was reassuring, being in someone's hands who knew what they were doing.

 

Cas and the others set up portable lamps from the trucks so she'd be able to see something. It wasn't an operating room, more like war zone triage, but she was managing to make do. Thank fuck for that, he thought.

 

She took blood samples from Dean and Sam first, then ran the long, thin tube between them and catheterized them both. With one last, _ready, boys?_ She loosened the rubber tubing from around their arms and Sam watched the blood flow down the tube from his arm to Dean's.

 

While the blood flowed, Carla worked to remove the pieces of metal frame embedded in Deans chest. He groaned as she pulled them out, and Sam, while he'd stitched them up too many times to count, knew this injury was way, way above his pay grade. He was helpless to do anything but lay there and watch his blood fill Dean's veins.

 

He leaned over Dean, staring into his eyes, dulled by the morphine and slightly hazy, but still all Dean. It was awkward as hell, but he managed to kiss him, despite Carla's protests and the fact that she was basically performing surgery on him on the dirty floor of a stairwell.

 

“Hey Dean...” he whispered against the pale forehead. “this is all over? Imma take you back home, baby. Take care of you. Not gonna let anything hurt you-” and he broke down and cried despite himself, because though Dean deserved a better brother, Sam was all he got.

 

Carla was regulating the flow of blood between them, but it was obvious Dean needed more.  
“Sam, I'm doing my best, but Christ, he's banged up so bad. Three puncture wounds and probably internal bleeding. Looks like he's got a broken leg on top of it. Hon, I don't know, I can't do much more...”

 

“Give him more of my blood, Carla. It's okay. I can handle it.” He smiled at her serenely, the fact that he was down a pint or two taking it's toll, leaving him weak, a little slurry in his words.

 

“Sam.” she smiled back sadly. “I could do more, but you can't give more- and Dean needs a lot more.”

 

Rolling his head weakly toward her, he made a little face. “If he doesn't make it, I couldn't go on, you know? _What I can do now is this- and I want to do this_.” he closed his eyes and smiled, remembering the first time Dean said he wanted to be with him- the happiest day of his life.

 

“Think of who you loved who's lost to you now. If you could save them- wouldn't you? Just do what you need to. And don't worry. I'll be fine.”

 

He knew it was against her better judgment when her mouth went flat, but her eyes met his and she nodded. Everyone who made it this far after Croatoan had people they lost- he knew it really wasn't fair playing her like that but it needed to be done. Dean needed to be saved.

 

She opened the clamp again, letting the blood flow as she worked feverishly to close every nicked vein and artery. Sam felt himself go hazy again, and knew he was nearing the limit of what his body could stand. He turned to look at Dean, eyes closed in his morphine coma, and just smiled softly. He was so beautiful even now- bloody and broken, and he lay there next to him, in the the pool of his brother's clotting blood and just loved him. Loved him fiercely with everything he had, and never regretted a moment.

 

He raised his hand to brush against Dean's still cheek, leaving a smear of crimson red. Damn, there was just so much blood. It was hard to believe he was still alive. But as long as Sam was here, he'd take care of that.

 

Sam looked up and saw Cas standing at Dean's feet. He looked wrecked. Like the life had been sucked out of him. His eyes flicked up to Sam's and they seemed to hold an apology, or an explanation. He wasn't sure which, because it was getting harder to hold onto thoughts- they drifted just out of his reach...

 

“Sam, you still with me? Sam?...”

 

He could barely hear Carla anymore. Her voice was like the buzzing of a fly or a bee. He just ignored it and let himself drift.

 

The room got smaller and smaller, the edges getting darker and darker until he could no longer do anything but curl into himself and float. Maybe he died, he wondered.

 

“Sam.” The voice pierced into the back of his mind. “You have to decide, _now_. Only you can save him. But it's got to be your choice. You understand that? Your choice-”

 

“Cas. You know what I'd choose.” The angel was in front of him, majestic and burning with heaven's own grace, once again decked out in beige trench coat and suit. “Are....are you an angel, Cas? Cause you really, really look like one...”

 

“Oh Sam-” Cas looked at him and smiled softly, letting his wings unfurl, his grace beaming brighter than the sun. “It's time to make a hard choice. I can only save one of you. You're on the brink of death now- it will only take a little longer and then it will be too late to save you. However, Dean will live. By the grace of God, and your blood... he will live.”

 

Sam waved his free hand. Of course. No contest. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Dean, nothing too far out there. This was just another one of those things. Besides, he might come back. They were Winchesters. They _always_ came back. He hoped.

 

“You save him, Cas- do you hear me? “ he found himself getting teary again. “I know we had our differences-”

 

“No, Sam. It's alright. We both want the best for him- and I want him to live, too, but I don't want you to die...” he looked sadly at Sam, who believed it, because – well, nothing gained at this point in the game, right?

 

“I can't choose for you, Sam. God wants you to decide.”

 

“ _G-god?”_

 

“Yes. He's back... and this is important, Sam. To God... to humanity... but only if Dean Winchester lives.”

 

Sam closed his eyes and gave a rueful chuckle. How typical of angels to turn it this way. Make it look like you had a choice, when you really had no choice at all.

 

“Well, seeing's how it's important to God, let's do it.”

 

And he felt the rest of his life's blood slip away and with it his consciousness. The last thing he thought of was Dean – at the wheel of the Impala, the wind ruffling his hair.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No! Not a deathfic- so relax. That's all I'm telling you and even that is a bit too spoilery :)


	34. Ch 34- The Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is somewhere. Heaven? Hell? And what is that angel doing here?

 

“Hey, sweetheart. Time to wake up,” she said in a low, musical voice. “Sam?”

He rolled over, hugging the pillow tight, burrowing into the covers and shutting his eyes against the glare of the morning sun.

“Don'wanna getup yet- Ten more minutes...”

He felt her sit on the edge of the bed and reach over to card her fingers through his hair. It felt soothing and wonderful, but beyond that, it made a happy feeling curl in his belly until he was vibrating with the energy of it- the rightness, the completeness. He arched into her touch like a drowning man is drawn to a life preserver. He was where he needed to be. Right here, with her.

“Sam, honey. You need to get up, now. There's still so much you need to do.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead, tracing his jaw with her fingers, petting his hair.

He sighed hard. She wasn't going to let up until he relented, it seemed. “Mom...” then froze.

His eyes flew open and he pulled up and back, staring at her with a curious mixture of hope and confusion. She wore her blonde hair in a ponytail, a simple tshirt and jeans that was exactly how he pictured her looking. She smiled patiently at him and reached up to tousel his hair.

“Come on, silly. It's time to get up.”

“Mom?” he studied her face as he said it. Like the answers would be _right there_ if he could only look harder.

She tilted her head and looked at him as if he were an errant teenager. “Yes, of course. Who else would I be?”

Who else? He had a list of possibilities a mile long,that was the problem.

“It's me. I know things seem a little mixed up right now, but it'll all become clear. Now why don't you get up. We have a lot to do today.”

“Uh...okay.” he pushed the covers aside.”Want to tell me where I am, exactly?” He looked around at the room they were in. The walls covered with sports posters, a shelf full of trophies, stacks of books in the corner and a computer on a desk with a yellow PostIt note saying; Psych Exam Thurs. “I definitely never had a room like this growing up.”

She chuckled and looked around. “Think of it as the room you were always meant to have, Sam. If things had been different. If Azazel had never come into your nursery. If he'd never killed your father. If our family had never been cursed....”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds pretty bad.” He laughed without much humor, and got up out of the bed. When he looked down, his pajamas were gone and his clothes were back- the same jeans, flannel and jacket he'd worn before.

When he looked back up, they were no longer standing in a bedroom- now they stood on a beach- miles of sand before and behind them, the wind blowing pleasant and warm and the rhythmic hum of the waves raising a fine salt spray that sprinkled across his skin and dried in the heat of the sun. Very nice. He needed a vacay – and had a soft spot for Hawaii for pretty much his whole life.

“Why here?” he asked.

She pulled her hair back in one hand, gathering the wind-whipped strands into a pony tail. “Oh. Someplace soothing...neutral. And this place holds no deep meaning for you, aside from your wish to visit one day...”

He dug his bare toes into the sand. The incoming wave rushed up the shore. By the time it slipped to his feet, it was a lazy push of water, lapping at his toes. He felt like a schoolboy- letting the onrushing water pull the sand from underneath his feet; burying his toes and heels deeper in the sand with each wave.

“Mom,” he asked, hesitantly. “am I dead?”

She rubbed her hand down his arm, slipped her hand into his and letting their fingers intertwine.

“That depends on your definition of dead, I suppose.”

He turned and looked at her. “Please don't play games anymore. If this is the end...”

“It's not.”

The voice came from the man who materialized at his side.

“Cas.”

“Hello, Sam.”

Something seemed so wrong about Cas standing there on a white sunny beach, wearing a rumpled raincoat. What made it more incongruous was the fact that he was barefoot, and the bottoms of his pants were rolled up.

“It keeps them from getting wet.” Cas had a tendency to explain the obvious. Even in this weird afterlife, Sam still found it funny and chuckled, leaving Cas to tilt his head as if he might be slightly insulted. “I'm here to convey a message to you, Sam.”

Oh, great. That was sarcasm, he thought to no one in particular. The truth was, when angels got involved in your life, nothing ever was great. You were practically guaranteed a bloody death immediately, or a lingering sense of hope before the angels ripped that from you and left you with- you guessed it, a bloody death. He and Dean had managed to come out on top in a fair amount of their dealings with angels, but that was damn rare. There was always the potential for massive failure and death. So you can see why he was being a tad cynical.

“Cas, wait-” He exhaled in a whoosh, trying to get a chance to find out what was going on before the smiting began.

“Sam, I don't know what you thing is going to happen, but smiting will play no part in it.” he said with a pained look. It could be that Cas had his feelings hurt, or hell, who knows- it was the same look he always had that made Sam think he was slightly constipated or gassy. He gave himself a mental shake. It wouldn't do to piss off the angel. Not when it looked like you were beyond the veil and possibly on your way either upstairs or down. He tried to make nice.

“No? That's great. I mean- thanks. I see you finally got to be an angel again. That's great, Cas.” He was babbling, he knew, but part of him didn't want to know more. Didn't want to think beyond just this second. Things like; where am I? What's going to happen to me? Am I going to Hell? (the big one. The one he really, _really_ didn't want to think about)

“Let's walk,” Cas said, and they turned in the direction of the wind and walked, toes dragging through the wet sand.

“Tell me Dean is okay.”

“He will be. The damage to his body was great, and it will take him time to recover from it, but he will get better, Sam.”

“Thank god-”

“Yes. Exactly. Thanks to God. You made the right choice, by the way. Although if you'd chosen for yourself to live, I would have saved you instead.”

As if. The idea that Cas entertained the thought that he'd put himself before Dean hurt. Maybe it was the fuckup for not looking for Dean when he went to Purgatory (be paying for that little gem for the rest of eternity, he guessed) or when he was getting high on demon blood (another fat, black X in the Hell column), but jesus, what would it take for it to be clear he loved Dean – _loved_ him with everything he had, and would do anything for him?

“You did it, Sam. You chose sacrifice. To let God take you instead of Dean. And Dean is important, Sam. You'll see just how important soon.”

“I don't understand. How will I see how important? I'm dead, right? I mean-” he looked up and down the empty beach, his hands spread wide, “look at this place- it's Heaven, right?”

Cas followed his view, then just smiled and shook his head. “Not quite. But it's in the neighborhood. Now, I need to pass on the message. God wants you to know...”

“Wait- what, _God?_ \--”

“Yes, that's what I said. God wants you to know why it was so vital for you to choose to give all your lifeblood to Dean to save him. You see, there's more to the story of your and Dean's destinies as vessels for Heaven and Hell. Because you two are essentially opposite sides of the same coin- the good, the bad; the yin, the yang; control and chaos, stasis and entropy-- one of you cannot live without the other- you never could.”

Sam got a lump in his throat at that last part. It was true, dammit, they were no good apart- and no matter how often they screwed up or fought with each other or walked out on one another, things were always wrong until they could get past it.

“It took a millenia of pairings to bring you and Dean into existence,” Cas went on. “ even though you were preordained to happen- it took the tireless efforts of Heaven to help pull you two into reality. Remember the cupid, who arranged for your parents to fall in love? It was all part of God's plan. You and Dean needed to be born-

“Yeah, to start the Apocalypse-” Sam interrupted bitterly.

“Well, partly. And I'm not privy to why God let the Apocalypse fail, but I'm very glad he did. But there's more, Sam. The war between angels for control of Heaven, between angels and demons for the Earth, and among the demons for control of Hell- all these are also why you are here. Why do you think you survived the Croatoan virus? And managed to meet me – you must admit those odds are unlikely.”

“I _knew_ it was no coincidence, _I fucking knew it_ -” Sam said under his breath.

“You're right, it wasn't. I didn't know it at the time, but you and Dean were chosen to save them, Sam.”

“The camp?” Sam said dully.

“ Not just the camp, Sam. a _ll_ of them. Humanity.”

“But- I don't- I don't understand...”

Cas smiled at him. His piercing blue eyes searched for something in Sam's own and held his gaze and nodded when he determined that he found it. “You saved humanity once already, Sam, by jumping into the cage with Lucifer. I'm not sure if this is the right way to put it, but- you're bound to Dean, your souls are bonded... and you're bound to humanity. God couldn't wipe the world clean of men without leaving you and Dean a way to save them. It's your destiny.”

Through the confusion he was feeling, a familiar emotion pierced him as Cas said the word _destiny_ , and it was anger. Pure, white hot and familiar. It was the anger he felt every damn time the angels tried to force him and Dean to bend to their will...familiar and tasting like ashes. He turned to Cas, trying to remain calm.

“Destiny, Cas? Really? This is what we're reduced to time and time again...being God's little puppets- so he can shove his hand up our asses and make us do whatever he wants because we're what... just playthings to him? Cause that's all it ever was, seems to me- all that fucking apocalypse shit, angels versus demons... just another way for God to keep himself busy while he's waiting for the god damn universe to blow itself out...” he vibrated with anger, and realized he was crying, hot tears tracing down his cheeks.

It was unfair as hell that even in the aferlife, he had to play these fucking games, he thought. Where was the peace of Heaven? Wasn't he supposed to be able to have his eternal rest? This didn't feel a bit restful- not by a long shot. Just more gamesmanship from Heaven's elite- playing with their pawns on a big, metaphysical chessboard. Christ, he was so tired of it. Tired- no Dean- back to being Heaven's bitch... he didn't know anymore. He just didn't know...

“I know it's hard to accept, Sam, but it is your destiny. Free Will...well, you understand, it's mostly an illusion. God does have a plan- and by definition, that trumps Free Will, right?”

It was something Sam had always pondered, but at the time, when God had gone missing, it seemed like they really were making their own choices. Now he realized he might have to rethink all that. It was a bit of a mindfuck.

“So, you're saying all this- the Croatoan virus, what happened to the world, Dean and I – everything was part of his plan?”

“Of course.”

“Even me and Dean, how we...”

“Yes. God is indifferent to that.” _Well, thank fuck for that_.

“...and Dean getting hurt? That was part of the plan, too?” he said as Cas nodded. “So I'd have to choose whether to save him or myself and I saved him. But God already knew I'd do that- right? I mean, he _is_ God...so what's the point?”

Cas chuckled. “I admit it's confusing. Trying to puzzle out why God does these things- well, it's beyond my ability, and besides, it's not for us to know. Anyway, there should always be _some_ mystery left in the universe, don't you think?”

Sam stopped walking and looked at Cas. “So now tell me how this has anything to do with saving humanity. Since apparently we did it.”

“Well,” Cas said, tilting his head for emphasis. “You haven't exactly done it _yet_. But you will.”

“That's going to be some party trick, considering I'm dead and in Heaven...”

“Heaven adjacent.”

“Whatever.”

“Are you gonna tell me the rest, or do I need to play twenty questions?” Sometimes the angel got on his last motherfucking nerve 

“There are two ways to describe how you will save Humanity. The first way is to say that you and Dean are the catalyst for a new beginning for the soul of Humanity. When you two cleave together it will be the balm that saves man.”

“That actually sounds kind of dirty, Cas. I mean, 'cleave together'? Jesus, who talks like that?” 

“Yes, well, I've been out of practice, alright? Cut me some slack. Okay... to be more scientific about it, _your blood_...your blood with it's demonic component was immune to the Croatoan virus, but that immunity couldn't be replicated. Dean's blood held a more 'angelic' component, and mixing these together resulted in something more than the sum of it's parts- Dean now has a heavenly cocktail in his veins – so to speak- that is immune to the virus, yet the antibodies can be reproduced to make a vaccine that can be given to the rest of the souls of Camp Hope. Perhaps in time, the Croatoan can be wiped out completely. Do you see now?”

Sam was shocked into immobility. It was so simple, he realized. So obvious, when he thought of it, and yeah, it made a weird kind of sense. That he and Dean managed to escape all manner of danger, death and drama intact; that they were, as Cas said – opposite sides of the same coin- one needing the other- each complementing the other. Being emotionally attached to his brother was just a natural extension of that idea. He smiled at the genius of it all. 

“Cas. I- I don't know what to say...” He grinned at the angel. It was worth it. It was so worth it, he decided. “This is great. So great- _my god,_ he can save them all-” 

“Oh Sam. You misunderstand. He doesn't know about the blood. He's still hurt and won't be able to do anything for some time. Not to mention, when Dean realizes his brother is dead, he won't have a will to live anymore. He'll decide to end his journey rather than go on without you.” He stared at Sam's crestfallen face. “But that won't happen, Sam, because you're going back.”

“What-” 

“Yes, you must. You have to tell the doctor about the antibodies in Dean's blood- and you need to be there for him -” Cas looked down at his bare feet. When he looked up, he looked human again, and very vulnerable. “You- you need to love him, Sam. Like he needs. Like he deserves. He's a good man, and - “ he trailed off, blinking hard against the wind.

Sam put his hand on the angels arm.

“You know I will, Cas. I always have.”

With that, Cas smiled at him, and took a step back. He reached up and stretched two fingers towards Sam's forehead. As he touched him between the eyes, Sam felt himself enveloped in a soundless explosion of white.

 

***

 

“SAM? SAM! Can you hear me?! Come on baby, breathe! Breathe, god damn it, son, BREATHE...” 

He opened his eyes, coughing painfully against the mask over his mouth and nose, white shards of glass in his lungs, and cramps running up and down his arms and legs. He leaned back after catching his breath.

“Jesus fuck, Sam, I thought we lost you there for a minute...” Carla was checking his vital signs.

He smiled up at her, exhausted and dopey. His eyelids weighed a ton and he was having trouble keeping them open. As soon as he had a little nap, he was going to tell her about the antibodies. But first, nap time. With one last look at Dean, he drifted to sleep, feeling a sense of peace both unfamiliar and so very welcome.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm so glad to hear from my readers. It's a joy writing for you! xoxo


	35. Ch 35- Dean's Happy Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's in a hospital bed. He's hurt. And horny. Good thing Sam comes to see how he's feeling.

Sam walked into the infirmary, smiled at Carla, who had her feet up on the desk and was leaning back in an office chair, a thick reference book in her hands. She blew him a kiss and waved him by, and he paused just long enough to drop a kiss on top of her messy curls as he walked by. There would be time to talk later, but first- his morning visit with Dean. If he didn't manage to squeeze in at least a few minutes every morning, Dean got bitchy as all hell, and Carla let him know it, too.

 

He went into the small hospital room that held three beds, one of which held Dean. Laying there sleeping, or lightly dozing- which he did a lot of the last couple of weeks- but hell, it was a damn sight better than those first few days when he began to doubt what Cas had told him- that Dean would live, despite his injuries.

 

Even Carla was doubtful. Actually, she didn't believe him at all when he told her about his experience on the beach- or wherever that was. Cas called it Heaven adjacent, and that was probably about as good of a description as they'd ever get.

 

Cas. Now there was a sore subject. He was gone, near as Sam could figure. He tried praying to him. Prayed like hell...especially when Dean didn't seem to be getting any better. He prayed. Then he cussed. Then he prayed _and_ cussed, but it was as if he was talking to the wall. Sitting next to Dean's hospital bed those first days, it was all he could do to keep his sanity, but in the end he _did_ believe. He had nothing else to hold on to at that point, anyway.

 

That story that Cas told him about the “heavenly cocktail” floating around in Dean's bloodstream? Turns out it wasn't just the ravings of a man dying from blood loss. When he finally convinced Carla to look into it, she was freaked, then elated to see evidence of antibodies in Dean's blood. That day, when she stood up from the microscope and looked at him- he thought he was going to pass out, he felt so light headed with joy. She wanted to test it and all that shit before she got too excited, but it didn't matter. He knew it would work. He spent the rest of that day with a dopey grin on his damn face.

 

He walked quietly up to the bed where his brother was sleeping and sat in the armchair next to the metal tree that held three bags that were hooked intravenously into Dean, and the electronic monitor that was constantly emitting a quiet 'beep' every few seconds. One of the bags hanging from the contraption was Dean's morphine, and the bag was empty- meaning he'd be waking up sore and hurting. Sam turned to go get Carla for a refill.

 

“Where you runnin' off to, princess?” Dean managed to croak out. Sam couldn't help the wide smile that he felt spread across his face as he turned back and sat down.

 

“Hey, man- didn't wanna wake you.” He pointed at the empty morphine bag. “You're tapped out.”

 

Dean let out a rude sound and licked his dry lips. “Forget it. I'm okay for now. Can you get me a drink, though? M'dyin' of thirst...”

 

It was almost like being back on the road, he thought absently- taking care of Dean like this. Bending the straw to his lips, Sam felt his heart well up and he blinked a little because christ, Dean would _love_ giving him shit for a girlie moment like crying. Good thing he did most of that in the privacy of their room. Cause dammit, he cried- okay? He was the one who could feel his feelings, after all. Might as well take advantage of it, he rationalized.

 

“What's going around in that oversize melon of yours, Sammy? You think too fucking loud...”

Sam grinned at him.

 

“Just happy.”

 

“Happy? Look at me, I'm completely fucked up...” Dean grumbled. He shifted slightly and his lips tightened in pain. He was definitely not healed, but fuck it all, he was alive- and Sam loved it. Loved his bitching, too. He'd take that bitching all day as long as Dean was getting better.

 

“You big pussy. Now, you want me to get that other bag of morphine or what?”

 

“Yeah, maybe. Anyway, it's probably the last one she's gonna give me for a while. They got that shit on some kind of timer, you know. So I don't _abuse_ it. Fucking stupidest thing ever.”

 

It wasn't the first time Dean had bitched about not being able to have free rein on his morphine drip. The notion that Carla, as a medical doctor, might know a bit more than him had led to their first fight, post-accident. Thank fuck Dean was unable to leave the bed, because Sam was pretty sure he would have walked out if he could. At least now he was resigned to the fact that he had no power except to lay there and heal.

 

Sam went to get the bag of meds and came back and hooked it up. In the last couple of weeks he'd become pretty adept at these simple nursing duties. He pulled back the sheet to inspect the wounds, and the progress of Dean's healing.

 

“Looks better and better everyday.” Sam said, palpitating Deans stomach.

 

“Ow, dammit, can you not do that? Fucking hurts. Jesus.”

 

Dean was not a good patient. Never was. The fact that he had a high pain threshold didn't mean he was any less of a baby when it came to something hurting. He whined just as long and just as loud. Sam finished his examination and sat back down in the chair. It was nice to just look at his baby, even if he was acting like a real baby.

 

“Oh, shit- I forgot- I brought you something...” Sam reached into his jacket pocket and tossed a small bag onto the hospital tray table.

 

“No way! Gummi bears!” Dean broke into a grin, tearing into the bag. “You are seriously the best brother, ever.” he said, sticking a couple in his mouth and closing his eyes.

 

“Yeah, our candy run was a hit, but there's not too much left. Don't worry, though, cause I held us back a stash of gummis and twizzlers. Maybe a few Snickers in there, too.”

 

“You always did think ahead,” Dean said around a mouthful of gummis. “Now, tell me you set aside some porn for me, too.”

 

“Busty Asian Beauties in both print and on video. Everything for your fapping fantasies. Just let me know when you want me to set it up on a laptop and hang a sock on the door so Carla knows to give you and your hand some quality alone-time...”

 

“Now why you gotta be like that? I'm a red-blooded American man and I have needs, Sam. Needs. It's a natural act, and nothing to be ashamed of.” he finished, somewhat lamely.

 

Sam smiled at him, slowly and a little dirty. Oh, yeah. He knew about needs, alright. Had spend enough time alone with his own hand lately to know how much he was missing Dean and being able to touch him.

 

“You been feeling a little backed up, Dean?” he asked with mock sincerity. “Maybe a little tense? - all that _pressure_ -?”

 

“You know I am, dickhead. Laying here all day, bored as shit, with nothing to think about except that- that _mouth_ of yours...” His wide eyes were indeed focused on Sam's mouth, and that sent a jolt of electricity straight to Sam's dick. He flicked his own eyes briefly to where the blankets were tenting over Dean's crotch.

 

Sam slowly rose from his chair and moved closer to the bed. Dean watched him with wide eyes as he lowered himself carefully above him, his elbows gingerly braced on the mattress.

 

“What is it you were saying about my mouth? Something bothering you?” Sam said, low and growly, as he leaned in the final inch to gently kiss Dean.

 

“Jesus, Sammy-” Dean breathed as they broke apart. “So not fair. You know I'm just so fucking horny right now.”

 

It was hard to concentrate with Sam looming over him, his lips roaming over Dean's cheek, his jawline.

 

“Is that right? You been horny?” Damn, it was fun teasing Dean.

 

Dean huffed a little breath and squeaked out a moan as Sam nibbled on his earlobe. Mother fucker knew just where to play, too.

 

“Course I am. You telling me you ain't been horny, Sammy?”he said, trying to sound normal, despite the fact that he was hard as diamonds. He was nearly pinned beneath Sam, who was all in his personal space, smelling all male and just so _there_.

 

“Oh, yeah. Been real horny...”Sam breathed into his ear, sending shivers down Dean's spine. Sam flicked out his tongue to graze along the delicate shell of his ear.

 

“Is that right?” Dean croaked out, turning his head as Sam lapped gently along his neck, stopping to suck gently.”Tell me what you do about it, then. You touch yourself? Get your fingers on your cock?”

 

Sam nuzzled against Dean's neck. “Yeah, babe, can't help myself. Gotta play with my cock when I think about you. Get's me so hard, thinking about touching you-” _kiss-_ “ kissing you-” _kiss_ \- “fucking you-” _kiss_ -

 

Sam reached down, running his hand gently across Dean's straining erection, lightly and almost hesitantly. Dean couldn't help but moan, his dick jumping at the unexpected whisper of a touch.

 

“Do it, Sam. Please.” he begged, his voice ragged with need.

 

With more confidence, Sam pressed harder, stroking Dean through the blanket.

 

“Don't wanna hurt you, babe...” It took immense effort not to throw back the covers and fist him frantically.

 

“You're not hurting me. It's okay, just- want you to touch me. C'mon-” Dean had his eyes closed, losing himself in sensation as Sam stroked him and licked his ear.

 

Gently, Sam lowered the blankets and freed Dean's rigid cock. “God, you have no idea how beautiful you are-” he murmured as he wrapped his big hand around Dean and gripped him tightly, feeling his pulse. He began stroking gently, pausing only to swipe his thumb across the weeping head, spreading the copious amounts of precum across the sensitive glans and along the velvety shaft.

 

“Mmm, baby, you're so wet. Definitely horny for me...”

 

“Told you-” Dean said tightly, biting his lip and softly moaning as Sam gave him the pleasure he was craving. “God, Sam- feels so good...”

 

Sam increased his pressure and speed, making sure not to jostle any of the bandages or injured area. He could see how Dean wanted to arch his back,spread his legs and rock his hips in time with the Sam's hand, but he only tried it once and the pain forced him to just lay back and enjoy it. Sam was kissing him, pausing only to drop a few filthy words or suggestions in between licking and suckling on his neck.

 

“Love having you at my mercy like this.” Sam chuckled. “Wanna make you make a mess all over this bed. Yeah? Gonna make a mess for me, Dean?” he said as his hand sped up, pulling the skin back and forth, the friction hot and unbearably sweet as Dean groaned again and again despite himself, his head arching, his eyes looking down at Sam's hand working him so well, and then closing in ecstasy when Sam's hand slid over and over the thick red head of his cock. Oh yes, he was so close.

 

“So fucking hot, baby. You ready to come all over yourself? God, I wanna see you- wanna watch you fall apart, baby. That's good. Yeah, come on, now, lemme see you come...” and with a loud _Oh God_ \- Dean came, shooting thick spurts of come up over his chest, across his face, the pillow- _like a fucking porn star_ – Sam thought as he bent to lick the shiny come off Dean's face. “Oh, fuck- fuck, baby, you're so goddamn sexy...” he groaned as he stroked Dean through his orgasm.

 

“Oh- Jesus, Sam-” Dean panted as he fought to catch his breath. Their eyes met and they both laughed a little. “Needed that so bad. Thanks-”

 

Sam leaned over and kissed him. “Dumbass, don't thank me. I loved it just as much as you.”

 

“I doubt that,” Dean smirked. “I got the happy ending. You didn't get shit.”

 

“Oh, but I've got a great memory to get me off later, so don't worry about it. Besides, the next time I'm laid up, I expect the same kind of treatment, deal?”

 

He reached for some tissues to clean up with and then gave up and went for a wet washcloth. Dean didn't disappoint. He really _did_ make a mess all over that bed. _Can't let the poor boy suffer like that again,_ Sam thought. It was clear he'd need that kind of therapy often. Maybe daily.

 

Sam grinned.   
“Dude. I hate to say this but I've got to get to work. You gonna be okay until lunchtime?”

 

“Only if you promise to bring me something decent to eat. No more goddamn soup, alright? I need some _real_ food...” he leaned up and accepted the kiss Sam dropped on his lips. “...and maybe you'll bring that kitten over for a little bit...” He looked a little vulnerable and so damn sweet that it made Sam's heart ache.

 

“I think that can be arranged.” He grinned and ruffled Dean's hair, earning him a dirty look.

 

As he walked out of the room, he felt lighter and happier than he had all week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the end of the story, guys! I hope you've enjoyed it so far! xoxo


	36. Ch 36- I'm with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of A Broken Spoke. Sam and Dean come to the end of their journey.

Ch 36

 

Three weeks later, and Dean was still recuperating.

 

He could get up and around, but it was slow going, and he ached something fierce inside. If he turned wrong, he said it felt like something inside was ready to tear itself loose. Carla said that was likely from a buildup of scar tissue around his internal organs, something they might have avoided in the Old Days when you didn't operated on someone's guts on a dirty concrete floor, but so be it. Dean decided he could live with it. Carla claimed it would subside with time. Christ, he hoped so, because watching Dean gasp and double over was making his anxiety go through the roof.

 

He'd managed to talk him into sitting in the wheelchair so he could take him for a walk around the camp at a speed somewhere over their usual snail's pace. Remembering back to the library in Meridian, Sam smiled and was grateful that he didn't have to throw Dean into the chair this time.

 

They had a six pack and a couple of sandwiches, along with a bag of weed and a pipe (sort of a Camp essential) and Ozzy snuffling along beside them as they headed out as far from camp as possible. Maybe they'd both finally had enough of it for a while. There were nearly 1400 souls in the camp now, and more arriving every day. The press of so many people felt claustrophobic, especially to two guys who'd spent the majority of their years with only each other for company.

 

“This spot okay, Dean?” he pulled to a stop. They were at the top of a small rise and able to look down over the RVs and campers in the distance; the milita buildings and infirmary; and the motley collection of wooden buildings constructed after the arrival of Sam and Dean.

 

“Yeah. Guess this works.” He was unusually quiet, Sam noticed with not a little bit of worry.

 

He spread out the blankets on the grass and helped Dean out of the chair. When Dean was finally laying comfortably on the blanket, he was covered with a fine layer of sweat. Just getting out of the goddamn wheelchair tired him out.

 

Sam made him a little pillow out of his jacket and put it under Dean's head. “No need to baby me, Sam. I'm not some fucking invalid.” he said, but it was without heat and his eyes were soft when he locked them onto Sam's.

 

Sam tossed a stick a few times for Ozzy, them went for their pack. “ You want a beer, or you wanna get high?” he offered. Dean pointed to the pipe, and they spent an hour laying back and getting stoned, watching puffy clouds crawl across the brilliantly blue sky.

 

“You know-” Dean said, breaking the silence. “ I never really thanked you for what you did, Sammy- I mean, it was dumb as hell and as soon as I get back to 100 percent I'm gonna kick your ass for doing it.”

 

“Dean-”

 

“No, Sam. I'm serious. I know why you did it...and the cure for the virus, I mean... you can't put a price tag on that, Sammy... but Jesus Christ, how many times do we have to keep doing it? Sacrificing ourselves for each other? You think this is it, Sam? Or is it just going to keep happening over and over and over?”

 

Sam sighed and shook his head. “I don't know, Dean. Kinda thinking this might be the last time. The cure for the virus... That's huge...and being able to save everyone? How could we turn that one down? It was a no brainer.” He rolled on his side and propped himself on one elbow. “You gotta know... I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I wasn't kidding when I said I loved you and I'd do anything for you. You're my better half.” He smiled and leaned forward to press his lips against Dean's flannel-clad shoulder.

 

“Aah. You're so sappy.” Dean smiled at him, eyes bloodshot with the pot and half-lidded, but goddamn, looking just perfect.

 

“I miss that feathery ass.” Dean said out of nowhere.

 

“Have you tried praying to him? If he's able to, I'm sure he'll show.” Knowing Cas was an angel again was slightly disconcerting; seeing's how he was the one who saved Dean and brought him back to life, it didn't seem like good manners to wish he'd never lay eyes on him again. He kept that to himself, though.

 

“Nah. Maybe one of these days...” he turned to look at Sam. “I just wanna get back to full speed. Tired as fuck of feeling so helpless- having to be pushed around-” he shot a glance to the hated wheelchair.

 

“Right now, I'm good. I'm alive. I got a little backup in Heaven...” he smiled at Sam. “I got my brother...I'm. I'm good.”

 

Sam felt Dean reaching for his hand, twisting his fingers between Sam's. This is what I live for, he thought. The small moments when you feel like the one person in the world who'll ever understand you reaches out to make that connection- to remind you that no matter what kind of shit happens- you're in it together. That they've got you're back...and you have theirs. That's what made it all worth it. At that moment, Sam would have walked across fire for Dean... and he felt the sting of tears behind his eyes when he realized this was it- for both of them.

 

The clouds were blurry and he didn't try to stop the wetness leaking from the corners of his eyes. If there was ever a time to feel sappy and sentimental and overwhelmed with love, this was pretty much that moment. He smiled at the rightness of it, even as another tear slipped down his cheek. Not that he'd do this kind of thing often, but for right now, he didn't think even Dean would give him a hard time about it.

 

“Hey, Sammy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What d'you say we wrap shit up here and go home?”

 

Sam closed his eyes and smiled. “I don't see any problem with that.”

 

“I miss my garden. And my kitchen. And my big screen TV.” He squeezed Sam's hand for emphasis. “Oh, and my damn shower. I miss the _fuck_ out of my shower. _Christ_ , why the hell did we ever leave?”

 

“You have a hero complex.”

 

“ _What?_ Oh fuck you, asshat. You wanted to help just as much as I did...”

 

“Okay, you're right. But you gotta admit you did get off a little being _Major Winchester_ , didn't you?”

 

“Never underestimate the lure of the uniform, Sammy.”

 

“Oh, I don't. Seeing you in that uniform definitely lured me. You make one hot soldier boy-”

 

“Who you calling a boy?”

 

Sam shut him up with a kiss. A long one that involved lots of tongue and left them both breathless and aroused. Sam had no problem doing the shutting up, and it seemed that Dean was more than happy to let him.

 

***

 

They had a truck packed and ready to go by the end of the week. No amount of cajoling, begging or threatening by General Davis would get them to change their minds, and finally, everyone accepted that they were moving on. Sam was confident he'd trained his team well enough that they could continue the work they started with the solar power grid. In fact, a couple of the newbies were so good, they'd already surpassed Sam's knowledge, and he felt more than happy leaving it all in their hands.

 

Dean looked a little wistful as he collected the goodbyes and well wishes from just about everyone they passed. His job was high profile, and you couldn't find anyone in camp who didn't respect the hell out of him- so he spent a couple of days just trading barbs and snarky jokes with anyone who passed by and wanted to clap him on the back and shake his hand. It was already all around the camp about the vaccine being developed from his blood plasma, so he was their first celebrity. Just about everyone wanted to say they knew Dean Winchester.

 

It was endearing, really. After a lifetime of anonymity, here was Dean, known and loved by one and all. The way he pinked up whenever anyone told him how proud they were, or how he inspired them, well- it was just cute as hell. Sam never got tired of seeing that and his heart swelled for Dean every time.

 

Carla took the news of their leaving particularly hard. She was still pissed off. Sam knew he had to make it right with her before they left, and finally found her, holed up in her clinic as usual.

 

“I see you managed to squeeze me in on the Farewell Tour” she quipped somewhat bitterly.

 

“Come on, Carla. Can we not do this?” He looked at her; how she held herself, stiff and stoic, and he knew it was hiding the hurt. His old trick- the one where you pretend like you don't give a shit, even though you're dying inside. He just looked at her and her face crumpled in sadness.

 

“Damn it, Sam. You're my best god damn friend...” and she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. “Gonna miss you so much...”

 

“Me, too, sweetie, me, too-” he murmured in her hair as she cried openly.

 

He held her for a few minutes while she sobbed and said things like _stupid asshole_ and _dumb brat_ into his shirt, and he stroked her curls and let her cry it out.

 

Finally, she emerged to catch her breath and wipe her eyes. She looked at him a little warily.

 

“If you tell _any_ one about this, so help me god...” she warned.

 

“Hey, your secret's safe with me.” he replied with a kind smile. “But it really wouldn't hurt if you let people see you a little vulnerable now and then.”

 

“Fuck that noise, Winchester.” she blew her nose and punched him in the arm. “You better not be leaving for good. And besides, the vaccine! I might need Dean again- or need your help- or...”

 

“We're only a few hour's drive from here, I'm sure this isn't the last you'll see of us. Besides, you know too many of my secrets- I gotta come by every once in a while just to keep you in line...”

 

She threw her arms around his neck and pecked him on the cheek.

 

“I know you bat for the other team, Sammy, but as a parting gift, I think you need to give me something to remember you by...” she grinned, looking up at him.

 

Sam smiled and dipped his head, kissing her chastely on the lips. Then, _oh what the hell, in for a penny in for a pound_ ,  he kissed her deeply and so thoroughly that she was actually a little dizzy and completely breathless when he pulled away.

 

“Oh, Christ, that Dean is a lucky man...” she grinned, hugging him and patting his back before breaking off.

 

He just smiled at her, this woman who had been his friend, his confessor, his therapist. She made life bearable when he was at a point where he really didn't want to go on – and for that he knew he'd always love her. Some day she was going to really surprise somebody.

 

***

 

They finally managed to wrestle Ozzy into the cab of the truck and calm down a weeping Milo, and they sat there looking at one another for a moment. The kid stood there; his dirty, tear streaked face looking about as sad as a kid could look- and Ozzy with his head poked out the window, whining and barking incessantly.

 

“He did take care of him for months, Dean. He was bound to get attached.” Sam rationalized.

 

“I know. I just don't like the idea of leaving the kid all alone. At least, with Oz he had some company, y'know? Now he's got nothing to look forward to but growing up in this place where nobody gives a shit about him.”

 

They were quiet for a couple of minutes, watching Milo standing there, wiping his eyes and waving at Ozzy.

 

Sam cleared his throat. “You know- we've got all that room. It's really way bigger than we need for two people...”

 

Dean looked at him. It was a gift, really- this thing Sam was offering. A chance to be the father he knew he could have been. The father that Milo needed. Dean smiled and leaned over and kissed Sam lightly.

“You'd be okay with that?” he asked.

 

“I'd be disappointed in you if you didn't.”

 

Dean broke into a grin and flung open the door of the truck.

 

“Alright then, Milo! You've got five minutes to go pack your shit and get in this truck! Countdown starts now...” He held up his arm and looked at his watch while Milo's eyes got big and round. “Whatcha waitin' for? Go! Go!” he yelled as Milo ran off.

 

Dean turned to Sam and grabbed him by the hand. “You have any idea how much I love you?”

 

Just hearing those words made Sam blush down to his toes and he felt his dimples deepen as the smile grew on his face until it almost hurt. All he managed to croak out was, “ Let's go home.”

 

 

the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks, that's it! Thanks for sticking with me on this journey while I purged myself of a story that had been pulling at me for months. It's hard to believe it's been 6 months and 84,000 words for my first fanfic - but now it's time to say goodbye- at least for the time being. I'm already wondering what kind of dad Dean will make and whether it'll be sooner rather than later when the boys return to Camp Hope, so maybe, there's a timestamp in my very near future. 
> 
> If you've got any ideas or questions, please feel free to comment and I'll try to answer as best as I can. Thanks again for the wonderful words of encouragement, the kudos, the occasional wtf-are-you-doing comment and mostly for the lovely support. You've humbled me so much! I appreciate you all more than you can ever know. Peace. xoxo


End file.
